


Not So Muggleborn

by grenouille



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-07
Updated: 2010-09-09
Packaged: 2017-10-11 13:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/113000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grenouille/pseuds/grenouille
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would happen if our favourite bookworm were sorted into the Pureblood-dominated House of Snakes? Here's one possibility... Decidedly AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Not So Muggleborn

by

grenouille

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Things would be very different if it were. Of course, then kids couldn’t read it, either, as, unlike Jo, I’m well aware of what teenagers get up to…

**A/N:** This is another example of a very randy ‘roo gone astray. I had a thought about what could happen if our favourite bookworm got sorted into the Snake House and started what I thought (once again) would be a nice little one-shot.

Oh, did I mention that the ‘roo was _very_ randy? And that he had apparently gotten into somebody’s Cialis?

Anyway, this won’t be a long story, and it’s already half-written. Many thanks to Vern (aka Herman Tumbleweed) for his magnificent betaing skills and oh-so-appropriate suggestions.

Chapter 1

_“Hm, a fine mind that Rowena would love to train. Loyal to a fault and courageous enough for Godric, as well. Ambitious, too, with a certain hidden cunning. The Founders would all be fighting over this one. Well, perhaps not Salazar. He never did espouse Muggleborns coming to the school. Where to put her, where to put her…_

_“What’s this? Oh my, a bloodline to put even the Founders in their place. Only one place for you, My Lady –_ **Slytherin!**” the tatty old hat cried the last word out loud as the Great Hall fell into a momentary shock-filled silence as the young Muggleborn’s robes took on the silver and green trim of the notoriously Pureblood house.

The bushy-haired pre-teen calmly approached the table to sit with the other new first-years and calmly watched the rest of the Sorting, not noticing the glares from her older Housemates.

NSMNSMNSM

The Opening Feast came and went and the students were sent to their dormitories for the night. As she entered the rather creepy dungeon Common Room, she looked around carefully, cataloguing every detail of her new home, while thinking about the few of her new Housemates who had bothered to acknowledge her. _“Tracey and Daphne seemed to be okay,”_ she thought. _“That other one, ah, the pug-nosed one -- Pansy, I think -- is a bit of a bitch. The boys are all a bunch of twats, though – except for the dark-haired one. I think he may be alright. He wasn’t too happy with everybody hanging all over him. All the attention seemed to upset him for some reason. That blonde one, though – thinks he’s God’s gift or something. Oh, speak of the Devil…”_

“Granger, wasn’t it?” the blonde boy demanded as he swaggered up to the young girl. “What kind of Pureblood name is Granger? I don’t know that family.”

“Well, as you’re only eleven, I’m sure that there’s quite a bit you don’t know.”

The rodent-faced youth huffed at this. “Do you know who I am?” he demanded in outrage.

“No, other than someone who’s quite ill-mannered. Should I?”

The Slytherin Common Room went silent except for a few gasps at the audacity of the young witch.

“I am Draco Malfoy,” he stated with arrogant pride. “My family is of the purest blood and the most important in the Wizarding World. As I have never even heard of any… _Grangers_… you can only be a Mudblood and have no place here. My father…”

“… is obviously an inbred moron, as are you,” she interrupted, confidence bolstered by the warmth radiating from the medallion she wore underneath her blouse. The silence seemed to grow more ominous until it was broken by a soft snicker of amusement from the dark-haired boy she’d noticed before. Meeting the other boy’s eyes for a moment, she shared a small smile with him as she noted the scar on his forehead. _“I wonder…”_ she thought for a moment.

Dismissing the distraction for later, she turned to leave and check out her dorm room before getting some sleep. As she took her first step away from the self-important Malfoy heir, she felt a pulse of magic flow from her as the young Pureblood grabbed her arm painfully to pull her attention back to him.

“Don’t walk away from me, you Mudblood bi-eeee-owwww!” cried Malfoy as a pulse of pure magical energy rattled his very bones and knocked him flat on his skinny arse, also causing his sphincter muscles to relax, leaving him rather fragrant. Glaring up in anger and embarrassment, he saw a bright glow emanating from under her school robes between her newly forming breasts.

Sighing deeply, she undid the top button of her blouse and withdrew the medallion that her great-great-great-great grandfather had given her the previous week, observing the reactions of her housemates to the crest of Clan Drakul. “Malfoy, don’t ever touch me again.” She continued to head to her dorm, then stopped and again addressed the Pureblood moron on the floor, “My great-grandfather gave me a message to pass along to your kind. Blood has only one purpose – to keep one alive.” She then added with an evil smirk, “Unless, of course, it’s to give him an enjoyable snack. Tell your father _that_, too.” Sharing another enigmatic smile with the dark-haired boy, she turned and went to her dorm, head held high.

NSMNSMNSM

After a restless night’s sleep, the young witch took a long hot shower, recalling just how much her life had changed since receiving her letter from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It was strange enough having the kind, but stern, professor come and explain how she was an honest-to-goodness witch, but then at the next New Moon, a bat flew into the house and turned into a man claiming to be her mum’s many times great-grandfather. Once the initial shock wore off, she and her parents began to look forward to the irregular, but frequent visits from Grandpa Vlad (as he insisted that she call him).

During those visits, he filled her and her family in on the state and culture of the Magical World – something that Professor McGonagall really should have covered during her orientation. He had a way of explaining serious things that left you giggling while still impressing the actual nature of the subject on you.

A case in point was his position on the whole blood purity issue. Whereas his opinion (as she had quoted to the young Malfoy) was expressed humorously, it was based on a real truth. The most amusing part came when they were discussing his personal history.

“That damned-fool Muggle, Stoker, really pissed me off,” he’d said one night to all three Grangers after one too many brandies. “He really made some trouble for the family with his nonsense. The Impaler, indeed. The only ones I’ve ever impaled were some rather attractive…” he trailed off, suddenly realizing that his eleven year old granddaughter was listening intently.

His visit last week, however, was a real eye-opener. Her relationship to the oldest remaining family in the Wizarding World (as the Heiress, no less) enabled her to use the legal fiction of being of the purest of the Purebloods, not to mention that most of the Pureblood families (including the Founders and House Emrys) had sworn Oaths of Fealty to the Drakuls over the centuries. As the sole Heiress, her word was law to all but Vlad himself. He presented her with the Family Crest on a magical medallion which would prove her claim and protect her from those who would not have her best interests at heart. It would also let her know if someone’s family owed her their fealty or not.

“But, most importantly, my dear,” he concluded as he gently placed it with its fine gold chain around her neck, “Try to keep it quiet. Wear it always, even in the bath. Never remove it as it’s a part of you now. But keep it hidden as much as possible as it will cause people to treat you differently and you’ll not be sure if people are kind because they like you for yourself or from fear, expectations, or for suspected opportunities.”

Her thoughts followed her to the Great Hall where she noticed that few of her housemates had arrived for breakfast. Seeing the raven-haired first year boy who had been so amused last night, she sat across from him. “Good morning,” she greeted him, holding out her hand, “I’m Hermione.”

“Harry,” he replied, uncertainly holding out his hand to shake hers.

Momentarily hurt at his hesitance, she reassured him as she realized why, “Don’t worry, Harry. My medallion only reacts to people who mean me harm.” She sighed deeply. “I really didn’t want anyone to know; but then, I guess you understand about that.” She discretely gestured at his scar.

“Miss Granger,” came the deep, silky voice of their Head of House, Severus Snape. “I understand that you’re wearing a dangerous magical artefact. You will remove it immediately and turn it over to me.”

“No, sir, I can’t do that,” she replied, feeling the medallion grow warm again.

“You can’t?” the potions professor asked dangerously, both eyebrows raised in amazement. “You can and you will, Miss Granger, and you’ll do it now!”

Standing and facing the obnoxious former Death Eater, the young witch stated calmly, “I will not! My grandfather instructed me to never remove it.”

“Yes,” he stretched out the word, “your fictional grandfather to go along with your fictional claim on a great house. Quit lying, Granger, and give me that bauble!”

Placing her hand over the medallion, which was now starting to glow, she cried, “No! I won’t!” not noticing that Harry had come around to her side of the table in support.

Snape reached for her, intent on tearing her blouse to retrieve her medallion by force. As his hand came close, magic flowed from her and violently threw him across the Great Hall. In the shadows, a man silently appeared.

“Miss Granger,” the Headmaster called. “Pack your things. I cannot and will not tolerate attacks on the staff.”

“No.” In the now fully occupied room, heads silently turned to see a well-dressed, older man approach the Staff Table. “She will not be punished for following my instructions, Albus Dumbledore.”

Dumbledore’s eyes widened in curiosity. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, sir.”

“You know full well who I am, but for form’s sake…” a medallion matching Hermione’s, but larger, appeared; hanging from a wide scarlet ribbon around his neck. Seeing the elderly Headmaster’s face pale in shock, the old man smirked, “Yes, Dumbledore, I am Vladimir Dracula.”

Vlad then turned and approached his granddaughter with a smile, noting the tears fighting to escape her eyes. “Good morning, Hermione,” he said as he drew close and opened his arms, “Are you well?”

Sniffling, the young witch replied, “Yes, Grandpa, I’m fine,” as she engulfed him in a hug.

Looking up for a moment, the old vampire spotted a young wizard slowly backing away. “Mr Potter, I presume?” At the boy’s nervous nod, he released Hermione and held out his hand. “I noticed that you joined my granddaughter during the confrontation. Thank you, Mr Potter.”

Blushing as he accepted the man’s hand, Harry looked at his shoes and stammered, “I-I really didn’t do anything, sir.”

“Nonsense, Young Potter, you stood with a member of Clan Drakul when you didn’t have to. We do not forget.” With a final nod to the boy, he turned to the fallen Potions Master, who was just now regaining his feet.  Supressing the smile that was about to form from the sight of Hermione nervously going to Harry, he blocked the enraged professor from approaching his Heiress. “Hold, Son of House Prince,” Vlad commanded.

Snape stopped and glared. “Get out of my way, old man. Just who the hell do you think you are?” he demanded.

Seeing the look of rage forming on the Count’s face, Dumbledore tried to intercede, “This is Count Vladimir Dracula, Severus.” Turning to Vlad, he continued, “Your Excellency, this is Professor Severus Snape, our Potions instructor and the Head of your granddaughter’s House.”

Foolishly and rudely ignoring the incensed vampire, Snape petulantly demanded, “Surely you’re not buying into this nonsense, Headmaster? Granger is nothing but a Mu…”

_SMACK!_

Snape suddenly found himself lying flat on his back on the floor, two tables away, nursing a broken jaw and gazing into the blazing red eyes and elongated canines of a fully enraged vampire. “Son of Prince! You have shamed your House which has been Oathbound to mine for over nine hundred years!” Reaching down and grabbing the foolish wizard by the throat, Vlad easily lifted him into the air, their faces scant inches apart. “Out of respect for the fact that this is a school, I will give you one last chance, Shame of Prince, “he hissed. “But be aware that your next transgression will be your last.”

Wrinkling his nose in disgust at the stream of yellow liquid flowing off Snape’s shoes, he casually tossed the greasy-haired Potions Master aside and walked to the front of the Great Hall. Vlad addressed the silent crowd, “I apologize for that unseemly display. It was inappropriate in front of children. I would, however, strongly suggest that you all contact your families and let them know that Clan Drakul has turned its attention back to Britannia.” Turning his attention to Dumbledore, he continued, “It seems that the Old Vows have been forgotten, Headmaster. I would recommend that your instructors correct that oversight immediately.” He turned and walked away.

Hermione stood and embraced her great-grandfather as he approached the Slytherin table. “You remember how to contact me in a hurry, right?” Feeling rather than seeing her nod of agreement, he looked at Harry, who then also stood and nervously approached. “It was nice to meet you, Young Master Potter. I hope that we can meet again, but under more pleasant circumstances.”

Bravely holding out his hand, Harry replied, “Likewise, sir.”

Vlad accepted the firm handshake, gazing intently into the young wizard’s bright green eyes before turning back to the young witch in his arms. “Take care, my child,” he said softly. “Teach young Harry what I taught you this past year, if he will listen.” With that, he vanished.

NSMNSMNSM

“Cuthbert, it is essential that you teach this to the children,” Albus repeated for the umpteenth time. _“I think it’s time to cut my losses and just exorcise him,”_ he thought in frustration.

“But why, Albus?” Cuthbert Binns, the ghostly History of Magic professor, whinged. “The Drakuls left the Isles long before even I was born. They no longer matter. Now the Goblins, on the other hand…”

“Enough!” the frazzled Headmaster yelled. “If you would pay attention for one damned minute you would have heard me when I told you that Count Vladimir himself was in the Great Hall _today_! Severus was injured for being his normal, impertinent self! Your classes for the day are cancelled so you can prepare yourself to teach the students _exactly_ what this means! Starting _tomorrow_!” Seeing the ghost about to object, he laid down the law in the harshest possible way, “I swear to Merlin, Cuthbert, if you screw this up, I’ll have a necromancer in here so fast…”

Binns nervously nodded his agreement before slowly fading away.

Pulling a tumbler and a bottle of Firewhisky from his desk, the old wizard poured himself a drink. After taking a deep pull of the amber liquid, he looked to his phoenix familiar and asked him, “Maybe I should plan on that necromancer, anyway, Fawkes. Perhaps during the summer. What do you think?”

Fawkes trilled a happy song. Even an immortally patient phoenix couldn’t stand the recalcitrant ghost.

NSMNSMNSM

The first week of classes flew by and Hermione found herself alone in the Slytherin Common Room early Sunday morning trying to focus on her favourite book, _Drakul: The True Story_. It, along with _Hogwarts: A History_,was a gift from Grandpa Vlad shortly after he first came into her life. Her mind wouldn’t stay focussed on the text as it tried to assimilate everything that had happened over the previous days.

Most of her classes had been fascinating and the professors had been talented and helpful. They had even seemed to ignore the events of the first morning and treated her as one of the other students. There were exceptions of course: most notably, her Head-of-House.

Snape, while not being overt about it, had completely ignored her. Whereas most of the other Slytherins would be given points for things like pouring water in their cauldrons, she was treated as if she didn’t exist. Of course, that was better than losing points for breathing, as did some Gryffindors in the Potions class she shared with them, but it would be nice if he would answer her questions in class.

The other staff members that concerned her were the ghost, Binns, and the Defence teacher, Quirrell. Binns was simply useless. While he did a fair job of explaining the Drakul Family’s place in Wizarding Britain, he completely ignored the rest of the world. Also, he made it evident that he considered the material unimportant as he kept muttering something about Goblin Rebellions.

Quirinus Quirrell, however, frightened her. He was a fair teacher, if you could understand him over his constant stammer, but something about him made her skin crawl. Even more strange was her medallion’s reactions to the turbaned wizard. It would grow warm in his presence, as it normally would in the presence of an Oathbound Family member, but it would feel icy cold at the same time. _“I think a letter to Grandpa would be in order,”_ she thought. _“Maybe Harry will let me borrow his owl as I don’t know if I can trust the school ones. The Headmaster probably wouldn’t like to see Grandpa again so soon.”_ With a grin, she took some Muggle paper and a biro from her ever-present bookbag, ready to start her missive, but got lost in her reflections again as she considered what to write.

The reactions of her fellow students varied. Most of the upperclassmen treated her as they would any other first year (which was fine with her), although, perhaps a bit more politely. The younger students’ reactions, however, bothered her. The members of the other three houses were polite and reasonably friendly, but they didn’t try to associate with her, either. Her housemates were another story. Like their Head, the residents of Slytherin House acted if she didn’t exist, although Hermione did catch the occasional glare sent in her direction.

The one exception to the rule was Harry. They had meals together and studied in the library together. He didn’t seem to be intimidated by her or want to ignore her, although several of their housemates had tried to dissuade him from associating with the young Heiress.

“G’mrmin, H’mione.” She turned around to see a sleep-tousled Harry stagger into the Common Room and flop on the couch next to her. After letting out a great yawn, he continued more coherently, “What are you doing up so early?”

“Well, I was reading a bit, then decided to write Grandpa a letter. What about you?”

“I woke up from a dream, then couldn’t get back to sleep. Bloody Malfoy and Nott sound like a couple of old lorries going down the motorway when they sleep.”

Hermione giggled softly at the analogy. Seeing how relaxed Harry (unlike the rest of the student body) seemed to be in her presence, she shyly asked, “Harry, can I ask you something?”

Groaning, Harry replied, “Ugh, before breakfast?” He sighed. “Go ahead, I guess.”

She screwed up her courage and blurted out, “Why aren’t you afraid of me like everybody else is?”

“Huhn?”

“Well,” she dithered a bit, “everybody else in the castle always seems to be on pins and needles around me. Everybody but you. I just wondered why.”

He sat up straighter and ran a hand through his perpetually messy hair, trying to jump start his brain into supplying a semi-intelligent answer. “I dunno. I guess it’s maybe because I didn’t grow up with all this stuff and you seem to be a nice person. Now your grandfather’s kinda scary, but he didn’t really bother me, either. It was more like… he was being protective of you, I guess. I wish…” he trailed off.

“You wish… what, Harry?” she prompted.

“Nothing.”

“What, Harry?” She turned and faced him, placing a hand on his knee.

“Just… just that I had someone who would protect me like that.”

“What about your family?”

The young man snorted. “They could care less about me. They would be happier if I never came back.” His eyes widened for a moment as he realized what he’d admitted. “Hermione,” he put a hand on top of hers and added sadly, “can we please not talk about this? I was raised by my Muggle aunt and her family who despise anything even remotely resembling magic. Can we just leave it at that? Please?”

She saw the heart-felt plea in his eyes, so she simply dropped it. “I take it that means you don’t know anything about our new world, right?” He shook his head.

“Well, neither did I until I met Grandpa. He didn’t come into my life until after I got my letter. I-I could tell you what he told me. I-if you wanted, of course.”

“You’d do that? For me? Why?”

“Because I think you’re a nice person, too, Harry. We should be given a lot more information than we are before we come here. Besides,” she added shyly, “Grandpa thought you should know. I think you impressed him.” At his confused look, she continued, “Like he said, Harry, you freely stood with a member of Clan Drakul. From what I know,” she held the old tome, “that hasn’t happened very often. In fact, I think you are one of the very few in the castle whose family isn’t beholden to the Clan in some way or other. I guess that’s why he said you didn’t have to.”

Harry thought carefully about this. “I’d like to learn more about this, Hermione. Could I maybe look at that book, as well?”

“I don’t see why not, but I’ll ask Grandpa in my letter, just to be sure.” She blushed a bit as she added, “Does this mean we’re friends?”

Harry shared her blush as he quietly answered, “Yeah, I’d like that. Why don’t you finish your letter while I get dressed for breakfast. Afterwards we’ll go get Hedwig to deliver it for you, unless you already have an owl or something.”

“Thank you, Harry. That would be wonderful. Then maybe we can go someplace quiet and talk about what Grandpa taught me.”

NSMNSMNSM

The weeks passed by in a jumble of classes, homework, and, as Harry called them, Pureblood lessons. Vlad had been so thrilled with Harry’s request to see the book, that he sent the boy his own copy, citing that Hermione’s was a family heirloom and, as such, had additional information that only the family was privy to. The young friends worked and studied together and eventually forgot about the reactions of the rest of the school to Hermione’s heritage as their friendship grew.

One morning a few days before Hallowe’en, the Headmaster made a rare announcement during breakfast, “Tonight, after dinner, you will all be confined to your Common Rooms and the Owlery will be sealed. If you need study materials from the Library, I would suggest that you acquire them beforehand.

“The reason for this is that we will be making some adjustments to the protections surrounding the school. There is no need to be concerned as this is something that needs to be done every few years. All will be back to normal before breakfast tomorrow. That is all, and enjoy your day.”

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance and shrugged their shoulders. They were both caught up on their homework and had a quiet place to read in a corner of the Common Room where no one bothered them. Unfortunately, they missed the malicious glint in Snape’s eyes and the smirk on Draco’s face.

NSMNSMNSM

Hermione looked up from _Drakul: The True Story_ and saw that the Common Room was empty. Deciding that it was late enough, she got up and started to head for her dorm to get some sleep. As she approached the stairwell leading down to the Girls’ Dormitories, Malfoy crept out of the shadows and blocked her way, intruding on her personal space. “Better start packing now, Mudblood,” he hissed. “You can’t hide behind your creature anymore. Or better still, you can take your proper place; on your knees before me.”

“What are you blathering about, Malfoy?” She felt her stomach churning in fear.

He took a step closer as he continued with a smirk, “You’ll find out soon enough.”

Panic was about to set in until something she’d read in her grandfather’s book came to mind. Drawing on the warmth she felt from her medallion, she took a step back and drew herself up proudly, commanding, “Son of Malfoy, halt and humble yourself before me.”

“Wha-what’s happening to me?” he cried as his body, independent of his control, stepped back and prostrated itself before the young witch as she looked on in awe.

Collecting herself, she answered in the same commanding voice, “Your magic is enforcing the Vows of your ancestors, Son of Malfoy. Now you feel the power of Clan Drakul. Change your ways, Draco, before you feel the Wrath the Clan can unleash on you and yours. Speak of this to no one, lest your punishment be severe. But some punishment for your behaviour is necessary.” Hermione tapped her chin with a fingertip as she thought of something suitable. “Ah, I know just the thing. Listen carefully, Draco, here’s what you’re going to do…”

NSMNSMNSM

Hallowe’en morning found Harry and Hermione sitting at a nearly deserted Slytherin table, enjoying a quiet breakfast. Hermione was trying to engage Harry in light conversation to distract him from the fact that it was the anniversary of his parents’ death, but was meeting with little success. _“Oh well,”_ she thought with a hidden smile, _“tonight’s entertainment should cheer him up.”_

As the Hall filled and breakfast drew to a close, Hermione spotted her Head of House arrogantly storm towards her. She touched the medallion beneath her uniform as if in supplication as he demanded, “Granger, you will give me that necklace now or face expulsion!”

She stood and glanced at Dumbledore, who was sitting in his throne-like chair quietly observing, before facing the smirking professor and calmly stating, “I told you before, Professor, I cannot.”

“Give it to me now, girl!” Snape demanded as her reached for the witch to find himself impeded by Harry’s slight form. “You can no longer prevent it as your… _relative_ no longer has access to this castle.”

Harry called out to the Headmaster nervously, “Headmaster Dumbledore, are you going to allow this person to assault one of your students?”

“This is none of your concern, Mr Potter,” the elderly wizard said. “Please sit down and stay out of it.”

“Get out of my way, Potter,” screamed Snape as he shoved the slightly-built boy aside. “I’ll deal with you, later.”

“This is, however, _my_ concern,” came a voice from the shadows. Every head in the hall swivelled to see Count Vladimir Dracula, resplendent in his ceremonial House robes, approaching the Head Table.

“How… how are you here, you foul demon? You can’t…”Snape’s words were choked off with a wave of the Count’s hand. “Shame of Prince, fall before your liege-lord and be silent!” he commanded. The occupants of Hogwarts gasped as they witnessed the intractable Slytherin jerkily prostrate himself at the vampire’s feet. “Now, Dumbledore, would you be so kind as to answer young Master Potter’s question?”

Dumbledore got to his feet and leaned lightly on the table before him. “Actually, Your Excellency, with all due respect to your position in our society, I don’t see where internal Hogwarts matters are any of your concern. In fact, I will admit to being somewhat at a loss to explain your seemingly easy access to this castle.”

The Hogwarts populace was shocked to hear a chuckle emerge from the Count. “Albus, Albus, you young fool,” he laughed. “Do you mean those reinforced anti-vampire charms you recently placed? Nicely done, I’ll admit. But you’ve either forgotten or ignored one crucial fact.”

“And what, sir, would that be?” Albus continued the game in amusement.

“Think back to your earliest history lessons. Well, at least those of you who learned from other than that ghost that teaches here. Where did your Hogwarts Founders get the land to build this school on?”

“It was granted to them by their liege-lord, as I recall,” rose a somewhat squeaky voice from the Head Table.

“Very good, Professor… Flitwick, isn’t it?” Vlad received a courteous nod in reply. “Now, who was that person?” He looked around the room. “Anyone?”

“I can answer that, milord.”

A true smile graced Vlad’s face as he spotted the ghost who had spoken. “Cuthbert, my old friend,” he greeted happily. “It’s been… what… three hundred years? And I seem to remember you were alive at the time and living in Transylvania.”

“Yes, milord. It’s kind of you to remember. And to answer your question; _you_ were the afore-mentioned liege-lord.” The blood drained from Dumbledore’s face as he fell back into his grand chair.

“Yes, Albus. It’s exactly what you think. As your memory seems to be rather poor, need I remind you whose family pledged their fealty about twelve hundred years ago?” Albus shook his head sadly. “Good.”

He turned back to his friend, “Cuthbert, I’d like to speak with you before I leave. I’m concerned that these people no longer honour the Vows of their ancestors.”

Binns bowed deeply before his liege. “Forgive me, milord. I expected that the children would have learned this as they were weaned from their mother’s breast as I and all my sires before me were. Be assured that I will correct that oversight immediately. I suppose that a couple of the Goblin Rebellions are relatively unimportant enough to warrant only a simple essay. I will make myself available to you at your convenience.” He once again bowed before he faded away.

Satisfied that one thing would go right, Vlad turned to his granddaughter and her friend. “Hermione, Master Potter, are you well?” At their muttered affirmatives, he said, “Then please join me over here. We have much to discuss and we need to deal with this…” he sharply kicked the prone wizard before him, “thing.”

He looked around to insure that he had everybody’s attention before he began, “House Prince, at one time, was a powerful family that I was happy to bring into my service. They had wealth, prestige and great political and magical power. It saddens me to see that this is what has become of it.” He turned to Snape and ordered, “Shame of Prince, stand and face your liege like a man, if you are such.”

Released from the magical imperative, Snape jumped to his feet, drawing his wand. “Avada Ke…” He vanished without a sound, his wand clattering to the floor.

Facing the assembled again as he summoned and pocketed Snape’s wand, Vlad announced, “Let that be a lesson. All but a small handful of you are bound to my Clan. Be wary, as your actions will always have consequences.” Turning back to the distraught Headmaster, he went on, “I would suggest that you find a replacement for young Prince. I doubt that any mercy that I may or may not decide to show him will allow him to continue in this position. Oh, and I require the company of my granddaughter and Master Potter for the rest of the morning.” Not seeing any objection, he concluded sarcastically, “Then, with your permission, Headmaster, we’ll take our leave.” He turned and quickly left the Great Hall, the two friends in his wake, to the growing sound of excited whispering.

The old Count stopped in the courtyard just past the main doors of the castle, and cast a warming charm around one of the many benches before sitting down, inviting the children to join him with a casual wave.

“Master Potter, it seems that the Clan is once again in your debt.”

“No, sir, that’s really not necessary. Hermione is my friend. I only did what I felt I had to do.”

“Nonetheless, young Potter…”

“Please, sir, just call me Harry.”

Vlad gazed at him quizzically for a moment, then seemed to make a decision. “Very well, Harry, then I must insist that you address me as Hermione does; Grandpa or Grandpa Vlad, whichever you are more comfortable with.”

“Yes, sir, erm, Grandpa.”

Vlad gave the boy a warm smile. “Harry, I have known many of your grandsires over the centuries. Although none have entered my service, they have often fought by our side and we have given each other aid and succour as needed. I can see already that you are worthy of their legacy. I would like for this to continue.”

Harry glanced at his friend and reddened slightly as he answered, “Yes, sir. I think I’d like that, too.”

Noticing something odd, Vlad hesitantly asked, “Harry, if I may, why are you not wearing your ring?”

“My ring? I don’t have a ring. Why do you ask?”

“Your Family Ring. If I’m not mistaken, you are the last of your line. You should have your Family Ring showing that you are The Potter. Didn’t anyone explain this to you?”

“I was raised by my mother’s Muggle sister and her husband. I doubt she knew and even if they did, they wouldn’t tell me, anyway.”

“What!” the old Count bellowed. “The Scion of Clan Potter raised by Muggles! Not being taught about his Family and his responsibilities! This is an outrage! Whose damned-fool idea was this?”

Harry was taken aback by the look of anger on the older wizard’s face and he stammered his reply, “I-I think i-it w-was D-dumbledore’s.”

Vlad buried his face in his hands. “Dumbledore. Again.” Looking up, his face fell at the obvious fear on the boy’s face. “I’m sorry, Harry. I’m not upset with you. Believe me; you have nothing to fear from me.” He got on his knees in front of the frightened child as Hermione scooted over and drew her friend into a comforting hug. As Harry flinched at the contact, Vlad gently probed, “Tell me that the Muggles at least treated you well?” When he got no response, he looked to his granddaughter with a raised eyebrow.

“He doesn’t talk about it, Grandpa,” she replied, hoping Harry would forgive her for what she was revealing. “But I don’t think so.” She held him tighter as he tensed and tried to pull away.

This didn’t go unnoticed by the old man. “Harry. Harry, look at me.” As the distraught eleven year old met the Count’s dark eyes with his watery ones, Grandpa Vlad continued softly, “Remember what I just said about our families giving aid and succour? This is simply another of those times. Clan Potter and Clan Drakul have stood together in friendship for millennia and, I hope, always will. Your actions towards Hermione have shown that Potter Honour is still what it always has been. You will not return to the Muggles and we will see to it that you learn about your true Family and your place in the world.”

When a faint smile formed on Harry’s face, Vlad got up and dusted off his knees. “Now, you two stay and relax. Don’t bother with your morning classes. And Harry, don’t be upset with Hermione for speaking out of turn. She only meant to help.”

“I-I know, sir, I mean, Grandpa. I’m not upset with her; it’s just… kinda hard to talk about. Oh, and thank you. For everything.”

Seeing Hermione’s eyes shine at Harry’s words softened the immortal’s heart. “Like you said before, my young friend, it’s what I felt I had to do. Now, I have to go deal with a meddling old bastard. I’ll see you again before I leave.”

“Oh, Grandpa,” Hermione interrupted, “you may want to stay for the Hallowe’en Feast tonight.” She blushed cutely, “I, uh, may have arranged for some entertainment.”

“Really?” he replied with a curious expression. “Then I suppose I should join you for dinner. I’ll see you later.” He walked off, wondering just what his overachieving granddaughter had cooked up.

NSMNSMNSM

 


	2. Chapter 2

Not So Muggleborn

by

grenouille

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Things would be very different if it were. Of course, then kids couldn’t read it, either, as, unlike Jo, I’m well aware of what teenagers get up to…

**A/N:** Many thanks to Vern (aka Herman Tumbleweed) for his magnificent betaing skills and oh-so-appropriate suggestions. Also, thanks to the members of the HermansTumbledweeds Yahoo! Group for their support and many (often amusing) suggestions.

Chapter 2

Vlad approached the Headmaster’s office sadly. He pondered, _“I should never have abandoned Britannia like I did. I thought I’d left it in capable hands, but I guess I was wrong.”_

The old vampire, realizing that nothing good would come of storming into Dumbledore’s office immediately after Harry’s revelations, had spent a number of hours roaming the school. He occasionally spoke with students and staff, and surreptitiously observed a number of lessons. Overall, he was disappointed that his old friends’ grand experiment had failed in the long run. Even worse, he knew that it was at least partly his fault.

The Ottoman incursions into Eastern Europe in the fifteenth century had occupied his attention for decades, causing him to leave Britannia under the control of a small number of his bonded families. Finally, after he decided to leave the Muggles to their own devices and focus on the powerful battle mages the Ottoman Court had in their ranks, he found himself exhausted after casting the spells necessary to hide his lands of Transylvania and Wallachia from the invading hordes, as well as the rest of the world. He smiled at the thought of the powerful enchantments he’d cast that day. Even now, with all the technology that the Muggles had at their disposal, nobody but the Oathbound residents of those lands knew that Transylvania and Wallachia were still there and that Rumania was actually only one-third of the size the rest of the world thought it was.

Cuthbert had filled him in on what had happened in the Isles since then. Poor teacher that he may be, he was unparalleled in his knowledge of history. He explained to his liege that the families left in charge quickly grew arrogant, believing that these were _their_ lands to do with as they pleased. This eventually devolved into the Pureblood dogma that was currently so prevalent in Wizarding Britain.

Vlad chuckled at the ghost’s insistence that he’d failed his liege-lord by not ensuring that the generations of children he’d taught still knew of the Old Vows. Binns had genuinely believed that Clan Drakul had released its claims on these lands as nothing had been done to curb the excesses that had taken place. _“The man’s been dead for centuries,” _he mused, _“and still fully abides by his Vows. Can’t ask for more dedication than that. But, then, the Binnses _were_ always the most faithful of my vassals.”_

Bringing himself back to the present, he shook his head at the odd guardian of the Headmasters’ Suite in the castle. _“A gargoyle. Godric certainly had a strange sense of humour. Oh well, at least he let Rowena cast the enchantments on it. There’s no telling what would have happened had he done them.”_ With a last glance at the statue, he vanished, only to silently reappear at the door to the Headmasters’ Office.

“Come,” was the puzzled-sounding response to his soft knock on the heavy oak door.

Dumbledore rose uncertainly from his desk to greet his visitor, but Vlad said tiredly with a casual wave of his hand, “Sit, Albus, sit. No need to stand on formality. I’m just here to chat a bit.” He gracefully sat in one of the squashy armchairs across the desk from the white-haired wizard.

Dumbledore resumed his seat carefully, watching his guest make himself comfortable. “What can I do for you, Your Excellency?”

“Albus,” the vampire began as he stared out the window, “do you ever look back on your life and realize that doing one small thing differently would have made all the difference?”

The confused wizard slowly replied, “Yes, I suppose we all have, at one time or another. Was there a specific incident you had in mind?”

“Yes… and no.” The older man sighed before he went on, “Albus, even though your one hundred fifty years is but a pittance compared to my nearly three thousand, being a mortal with those years tells me that you may be able to understand some of what I’m feeling.”

Dumbledore nodded his acceptance of that observation.

“Five hundred years ago, I left my lands here under the supervision of a small handful of what I thought were some of my most faithful. The Turks were invading my homeland and they outnumbered us a thousand to one, and that being but a small part of their strength. I needed to focus my attention there, for obvious reasons. And we prevailed, in a way. My people were safe, but my heart bled for the Muggles that we had to leave on their own.

“Tired and weary, I retreated to my home, thinking that things were well in hand and that I could take the much needed time to relax and heal. All the reports in all my other domains supported those beliefs, so I took that time. Even vampires have needs, Albus; including the carnal ones that plague the rest of the human race. I spent many, many years on my travels in pursuit of debauchery and self-healing, confident that my vassals were keeping things in order.

“Eventually, I returned home to find that, on the surface, all was well. I fell into a comfortable lifestyle as the invisible ruler, confident in my vassals’ abilities and loyalty. But, somehow, Britannia had slipped my mind. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Albus carefully considered the story that Vlad had shared with him, reflecting on the similarities to his own life – similarities he was loathe to admit. “Yes, I think I do. I remember feeling much the same after Gellert was defeated. I, too, took such a… holiday. Now, to be honest, I suppose that I’ve fallen into the same type of situation.”

Vlad nodded seriously, “Yes, you have.” He sighed again, “I don’t want to have difficulties with you, Albus. Your Family was faithful to me for generations. I had considered leaving Britannia in their care, but they insisted in joining me in battle. You should be proud of your ancestors, Albus Dumbledore.

“In any case, my biggest regret is losing control of Britain – especially now that my Heiress has been born, and makes her home, here. I have to make things right; for her, and all the others that have suffered because of my failure.” He took a deep breath and slumped in his chair. “I’ll admit, young Albus, I’m tired. I may be immortal, but the exhaustion is in my very soul. That can lead to errors in judgement which I cannot abide.

“Tell me, Albus, what regrets do you have? What decisions have you made that you would like to unmake?”

Albus slumped in his own chair as he recognized the truth in the Count’s words. “I understand how you feel. It seems like I’ve been fighting my whole life for the Greater Good of all.” A twinkle briefly graced his eyes as he added, “Of course, there’s always an errant Dark Lord or two to break the monotony.” Gathering himself, he concluded, “As much as I have truly hated some of the decisions I’ve made, I don’t know that I would, or even could, change them.”

Vlad’s eyebrows rose past his hairline at this admission. “Nothing?” he whispered in shock. “Nothing at all?”

“No.” The elderly wizard leaned forward and folded his hands on his desk. “All I’ve done has been for the Greater Good. I’ve been greatly saddened that a few have had to suffer as a result of some of my choices, but sometimes… sometimes, sadly, it’s necessary.”

“How dare you!” Dracula roared as he jumped to his feet. “What arrogance! What gives you the right to make those decisions for people! Even I, at the height of my power and influence, NEVER presumed to decide who lives…” his voice fell to a bare whisper, “and who dies.” He began to pace the room, waving his hands wildly while shooting angry glares at Dumbledore. “Are you a god, Son of Dumbledore? Are you all-knowing? What vision do you have that the rest of humanity does not?” He stopped and locked eyes with the now cowering wizard who was currently showing each one of his many years. “And what of young Harry?”

Dumbledore blinked. “Harry?”

Vlad retook his seat. “What possible ‘Greater Good’ would be served by denying the last scion of one of the oldest and most powerful Houses his birthright? And placing him with magic-phobic Muggles no less?”

Regaining his confidence, Dumbledore replied smoothly, “I assure you, there is a good reason. However, it is quite sensitive and I’m not comfortable sharing it. In fact, I am the only one who knows the whole story.”

“Son of Dumbledore,” the vampire growled, “you would dare to deny your liege-lord? Does your arrogance have no bounds?”

Albus recognized the fragile ground he was on as he replied, “No, My Lord, but this is far beyond both of us.”

“Son of Dumbledore, listen well: Clan Drakul and Clan Potter have been friends and allies for many centuries. Although they have taken no Vow with us, we have always supported each other and that will not change. Young Master Potter is a Friend of Clan Drakul and, as such, is under the protection of the Clan. I could simply rip the information from your mind, but I’ll give you this one last chance to give it freely.”

Realizing that he was up the proverbial creek, not only without a paddle, but with a toothpick for a boat, he surrendered gracefully. “Are you familiar with the story behind Harry’s scar?”

“Yes, even in Transylvania, we heard the story at the time, and Cuthbert explained the rest to me in nauseating detail.”

Retrieving his Pensieve from a cabinet behind him, Albus placed it on his desk. “There was a prophecy made about him and Voldemort.” He tapped the side of the Pensieve with his wand and played it for his liege.

Vlad sat back and considered things carefully. “So what?” he asked. “This Voldemort came after Harry and failed. The prophecy has been fulfilled.”

“Voldemort is not dead.”

“Are you certain?”

“As certain as I can be without having witnessed the event.”

Vlad concentrated deeply as he recalled something disturbing from the Defence class he’d observed. “What family is this Voldemort from?”

“His father was a Muggle. His mother was a witch named Merope Gaunt. He is thought to be the last of Slytherin’s line.”

“That explains much.” At Albus’ confused expression, he elaborated, “Before I came up here, I observed several classes, one of which was Defence Against the Dark Arts. Are you aware the young Professor Quirrell is being controlled by a wraith?”

“I suspected something like that was happening and have been trying to find a way to release him from its control without harming the young man.”

“Don’t bother. Sadly, there is no way, if what I suspect is true.” Looking around the cluttered office and seeing the portraits listening intently, the old man cast a powerful silencing charm around himself and the younger wizard. “Tell me, Albus, have you ever heard of a Horcrux?”

The Headmaster’s face paled at the word. “Surely you’re not suggesting…”

Vlad nodded gravely. “I’ve run across them a handful of times. They have a subtle, yet distinctive, magical feel to them. The wraith controlling Quirrell is being anchored to this plane by a Horcrux. Possibly more than one.” A sense of dread descended upon the now silent office as they both considered the ramifications of this discovery.

Vlad broke the silence as he stood and dispelled the silencing charm. “In any case, Albus, it seems that you now have two teachers to replace. I may have a solution for the other problem, though. I need to check on something before I’m certain.”

“About Severus…”

Vlad shook his head. “No, Albus, he’ll not be returning. He has shamed his House, shamed his Family’s Vows, and insulted the Clan. If you must know, he is enjoying his time in a dungeon in my castle in Transylvania. Oh, and while I think of it, stay out of Harry’s business. As I said, he is under my protection and I will also be dealing with his Muggles as well as any other who mean him harm.”

Vlad’s eyes unfocused for a moment before he went on, “He’s quite an impressive young man, isn’t he, Albus? He befriended Hermione, and then he stood up for her, even against you, for no other reason than it being the right thing to do. I would like to see that friendship continue and, perhaps one day, become more. Can you imagine what could be if the Drakul and Potter Clans were united in that way? I think I could finally convince myself to retire.” He chuckled softly with a wistful look in his eyes. “But I won’t interfere either way _and neither will you._ If it’s to be, it must happen on its own.

“Anyway, you have a school to run and I promised Hermione and Harry I’d join them for dinner. I would choose your new teachers carefully, if I were you. I don’t hold you accountable for the current state of my friends’ legacy, as I’ve been assured that its decline started long before your birth, but from here on, you will be responsible for its restoration.

“Don’t worry about any Greater Good, Son of Dumbledore. Your labour is to return this school to the prominence that it deserves. Content yourself with that and you’ll be honoured throughout history.” His tone softened, “You said it yourself, my young friend: you’re tired. Perhaps it is time to retire from your other positions so may devote yourself to restoring this greatest of legacies? Take some time for yourself and focus your energy on building a new future for our children and their children’s children. There can be no greater gift you could leave than that of knowledge.” With those words, he quietly left Dumbledore contemplating the old vampire’s wisdom.

NSMNSMNSM

A pale young man with an odd purple turban paced his office. An onlooker would think he was crazy as it seemed that he was arguing with himself, but with two distinct voices.

“Is the troll ready to be released in the castle?” his voice came out as more of a hiss, than his normal stutter.

“Y-yes, M-master. B-but what a-about th-the vampire?”

“Ah, yes, the supposed Dracula. What of him?”

“I-I overh-heard P-potter and the g-girl talking. He w-will b-be at th-the f-feast, tonight.”

“That could be a problem. Return the troll to its pack. We will have to find an alternative, but keep your eyes open for an opportunity.”

“Y-yes, M-master.”

“Oh, before I forget, _Crucio_!” Twin screams of pain came from the young man as he collapsed to the floor. Moments later, the hissing voice returned, “I really have to remember not to do that.”

NSMNSMNSM

Harry and Hermione entered the Great Hall for the Hallowe’en Feast, hand in hand. After Grandpa Vlad stormed off into the castle, they followed his advice and simply talked quietly, building on the fledgling friendship the two had been slowly developing.

A short time later, their butts had gotten sore from sitting on the cold stone benches, so they got up and went for a walk around the lake on the grounds. It was on their second circuit that their hands found each other as they shared their joys and fears, hopes and sorrows. Tears and laughter accompanied their talks as they purged their very souls of the hardships that their lonely childhoods had burdened them with. Finally, a gentle, kiss preceded their return to the Great Hall for lunch and their afternoon classes. Neither of them was quite certain who started it, but they had both most certainly enjoyed it.

A smile graced Grandpa Vlad’s lips as he spotted the children sitting closely together at the end of the Slytherin House table, talking quietly and oblivious to the rest of the room. _“Hm,” _he thought, _“perhaps I _will_ be able to retire someday. But first we must relieve Harry of the burden that he still doesn’t know about_.” With an internal sigh, the Head of Clan Drakul approached the youngsters and asked, “May I join you?”

Looking up, Hermione smiled as she replied, “Of course, Grandpa.”

“Thank you, my dear. Did you two have a pleasant day?”

With a warm glance at Hermione, Harry answered shyly, “It started off pretty crappy, but…” he stole another peek at the cute young brunette at his side, “yeah; it ended up being pretty good.”

Impressed with the simple honesty in the boy’s response, Grandpa Vlad inwardly moved up his estimated retirement date by several years. Looking to his granddaughter, he asked, “What is this entertainment that you’ve arranged. Is it safe to assume that the Headmaster is… unaware of it?” The twelve year old’s blush was enough to confirm his suspicions, yet he was looking forward to her answer.

“I, uh,” she started, choosing her words carefully, “may have neglected to mention it to him. It’s a surprise and should start sometime around the pudding course. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

Satisfied with her response, but still curious due to the strange gleam in her eyes as she spoke of it, he turned to the sumptuous meal which appeared after Dumbledore’s nonsensical opening address. The rest of the meal passed in light conversation of the type commonly found in close families. Harry found this to be a new, but strangely comforting experience – one that he quickly grew to enjoy and which drew him even closer to his friend and her grandfather.

As the main course vanished, to be replaced by a wide variety of cakes, pastries and assorted sweets, a commotion erupted at the other end of the Slytherin table. The vampire’s raised eyebrow was answered by the young witch’s barely noticeable nod as the threesome sat back to enjoy the show.

Draco Malfoy jerkily got up from his place at the table and slowly walked to face the Head Table, his movements becoming smoother with every step. He bowed grandly to the staff, then spun in place and repeated the gesture to the Hall at large. He took several steps forward before turning back to face the seated staff, and took a running leap, landing on the Head Table. He turned back to face the Hall and started a weirdly spastic freestyle dance that was vaguely reminiscent of Disco and began to sing:

I am Muggleborn  
Live in the world as a source of scorn.

Don't the Purebloods know  
Their lines will fail and mine will grow?

They marry their cousins  
And their families will die.  
I marry my best friend  
Our family won't end.

I have no Wizard kin  
They don't see what I bring in.

Purebloods keep to themselves  
They should just keep their sperm on shelves.

The Purebloods don't want us  
They all turn their heads.  
All they're breeding are squibs  
Now we'll have our revenge.

Cheers and jeers came from the student body (especially those raised in the Muggle world as they recognized the tune as being from an old hard rock song) while the Hogwarts staff looked on in bewilderment. He ended his performance by leaping off the table and bowing once again to both the Staff and the students before running out of the Great Hall, red-faced and with tears flowing freely.

Vlad noticed the satisfied smirk on Hermione’s face as the Headmaster tried to restore order while his Deputy took the Matron to tend to young Malfoy. _“A true Drakul she most certainly is,” _he mused in pride and satisfaction. _“Quite the creative punishment. I wonder what he did to anger her so? Hm, I suppose I should tell her that the Osbournes are bound to us, as well.”_

No one noticed the turbaned young man muttering to himself before he fell off his chair, silently shuddering in pain.

NSMNSMNSM

A couple of days later at lunch, a tall, elegant man with long, silky blonde hair strode into the Great Hall. With a gesture from the man, Draco joined his father as he stormed up to the Head Table.

“Lucius, to what do we owe the honour of this visit,” Dumbledore greeted him politely.

“I have no time for pleasantries, Dumbledore,” stated Lucius Malfoy. “I’m here to see that the… person who cursed my son is punished.”

Harry and Hermione shot each other a worried look as she clasped her medallion. Vlad faded into view behind them and whispered, “I was already here, my child. I suspected this would happen. Do not worry. If he openly accuses you, reveal yourself and stand your ground. Harry, be ready, but this is hers to do alone.” She nervously nodded her agreement as he faded back into the shadows. Harry, although not happy, nodded his as well.

“Cursed, Lucius? There is no evidence of that. Poppy examined him thoroughly and…”

“Spare me your platitudes, Dumbledore!” the man barked. “I received a missive from my son immediately after the attack. I want that little bitch expelled and tried before the Wizengamot for attacking a Pureblood!” He turned and addressed his son, “Where is this Mudblood, Draco?”

Draco pointed directly at Hermione with a smirk, “The ugly one at the end of the table, Father.”

Lucius stared at her as if he were observing a new species of insect. “Come here, girl,” he demanded. “Now.”

Standing apprehensively, her voice rang out clear and strong as she felt the warmth of her medallion, “Why would I want to do that?”

The faint muttering in the hall suddenly stopped.

“Get over here,” the angry wizard growled. “And respect your betters.”

“I would,” she retorted as she pulled out the Crest of Clan Drakul and strode to the head of the   hall, “if you were one!” A gasp filled the room at her words.

Lucius stalked his way towards Hermione. “What is this lie? How dare you wear that symbol? You have no right…”

Hermione drew the medallion’s warmth inside her and commanded, “Kneel before me, Vassal of Clan Drakul! Show respect for _your_ betters!” Lucius stopped his approach as he tried to fight the magical imperative. Failing, he slowly knelt before the nervous young witch. Noticing that Draco was behind his father, she turned to him, “Remember your place, Draco, and join your father.” The younger Malfoy dropped to his knees.

“Well done, Granddaughter,” came the soothing voice of the amused Count as he faded into view. “You’ve proven your worthiness today. Harry, could you help her back to her seat?” As the young wizard took his friend back to her seat at the Slytherin table, Vlad turned and calmly addressed the pair of Purebloods, “Do you know who I am, Lucius of House Malfoy? Or is your son’s stupidity inherited from you?”

Looking up to see who was addressing him, Lucius nearly wet himself in fear. “Y-yes, My Liege,” he grovelled, “House Malfoy lives to serve Clan Drakul.”

“Do you? Do you, really? I find that difficult to believe as your son has repeatedly impugned my Heiress’ honour. Even after she chastised him, he causes this… fiasco.”

The vampire cocked his head to the side and silently observed the grovelling wizard before him. “I left the responsibility for maintaining my interests in these lands in the hands of those whom I thought were among my most trustworthy. I’m sad to say that I seem to have been mistaken. Of those families; two seem to have had their lines end and one sees its last scion imprisoned and guarded by demons for reasons I’ve yet to fully uncover. Another has recently had one of its Sons Shamed in this very room and is awaiting my displeasure in chains. Tell me, Son of Malfoy, who does that leave to feel my wrath?”

Vlad calmly watched the wizard before him quake in fear as a certain stench wafted through the large room. “Hear me well, Son of Malfoy: there will be an accounting. For now, take your son and instruct him properly, lest he bring more Shame upon your House. I will deal with you at another time. Now, be gone!”

Lucius flew to his feet and, grabbing Draco painfully, ran from the Great Hall.

Vlad turned and walked back to where Harry was comforting his heiress and, smiling warmly at them, said, "So much for keeping things discreet, my child.” Harry and Hermione chuckled knowing that at Hogwarts, anything that was a secret was known by everybody.

NSMNSMNSM

The rest of the term was unremarkable except for the arrival of Snape’s replacement; an overbearing, pompous arse-kisser named Horace E. F. Slughorn. Slughorn, the Potions instructor and Head of Slytherin prior to Snape’s tenure, was quite annoying in his attempts to ingratiate himself with both the Heiress of Clan Drakul and The-Boy-Who-Lived.

Fortunately for their sanity (and Slughorn’s continued existence) Hermione had made some discoveries about the powers related to her medallion. Her experiences with both Malfoys gave her cause to re-read the relevant sections of _Drakul: The True Story_ which gave her enough insight so as to unobtrusively keep the toadying professor at bay, for the most part.

One evening, about a week before Christmas, Vlad appeared in the Slytherin Common Room. He smiled widely as he spotted Hermione and Harry cuddled together in an armchair with her legs draped across his lap, quietly studying. Soundlessly, he approached and sat in the matching chair next to theirs and softly cleared his throat to gain their attention. “Good evening, my children.”

He laughed out loud at the panic in their eyes as they tried to untangle themselves from each other. Holding his hands up as he regained his breath, he reassured them with a warm smile, “No, no. Stay as you were. I have suspected for some time that your friendship was becoming closer and, if it means anything, I whole-heartedly approve.” He laughed again at the sighs of relief from the couple as they regained their previous positions.

“Hello, Grandpa,” they said in unison before they giggled at their synchronicity. Hermione continued with, “What brings you here tonight, Grandpa?”

His response was interrupted by a squeak of fear and the sound of running feet. Looking around quickly, the threesome spotted Draco Malfoy’s distinctive blonde hair and scrawny backside disappearing down the stairs leading to the boys’ dorms. They chuckled together in satisfaction.

Grandpa Vlad reached inside his robes and withdrew a sheaf of both parchment and Muggle paper, which he handed to Harry. “I come bearing an early Yule gift for our young friend.” He continued his explanation as Harry perused the documents, “First of all, there is the formal recognition of Harry’s place as the Head of Clan Potter. This should have been done shortly after his parents’ passing, with an acceptable regent being assigned as he was only a babe. The Wizengamot was… hesitant… to comply, but I managed to… _convince_ them to do this without the need for a regent.”

The kids shared a nervous glance, knowing full well how the vampire might convince them, before turning their attention back to him.

“The Muggles were another issue, of course. As you are only eleven, it was not possible to have you emancipated under Muggle law. I managed to get those Dursleys of yours to agree to sign your Muggle custody over Hermione’s parents. Now, this is mostly a legal fiction to protect you in the Muggle world. I may have been born what these fools classify a Pureblood, but I have lived most of my many centuries enjoying the benefits of both worlds. I would hope that you two would do the same.”

The old man shook his head sadly. “Harry, my young friend, I’m more impressed with you than ever after having met those people. In all my centuries, I have never met more detestable people than those Muggles you were forced to live with. That you turned out as honourable as you have is nothing short of amazing and a testament to your Family’s legacy.”

As Harry took in all that Hermione’s grandfather had said, he sat up straighter and stated formally, “Thank you for all this, sir. Clan Potter is in your debt.”

“Nonsense, Harry. As you refused my Clan’s debt earlier this year on the grounds of friendship, I do the same. The sentiment is appreciated, but there can be no debt between friends.”

Seeing Harry’s nonverbal acquiescence, Vlad continued, “Now, I have made some arrangements for your Yule holidays which I hope will meet with your approval. When you get off the train in London, you’ll both be met by Hermione’s parents.” He looked directly at Harry as he added, “Her father is particularly interested in meeting the young man who has so enthralled his daughter.” Harry’s complexion took on a decidedly green cast at that thought.

Hermione gave him a hug as she giggled, “Don’t worry, Harry, I’ll protect you.”

“Your holiday will mostly be spent at Hermione’s home, but I’ve arranged for all of you to spend some time at Castle Drakul in Transylvania so that Hermione and her mother can experience a bit of their heritage. Perhaps we can research the Potter Family history over the summer as I suspect that we’ll find some interesting surprises there, as well.”

Hermione and Harry enthusiastically voiced their agreement.

Vlad rose from his seat. “Good, good. Now, I have some other business to attend to, so I’ll leave you to your studies.”

The kids jumped up and embraced the vampire before he took his leave. As he vanished, Hermione turned to Harry and hugged him tightly. “We’re going to have so much fun,” she whispered excitedly against his neck. Harry’s newly forming hormones caused him to shudder in response.

NSMNSMNSM

Vlad appeared outside the door to Dumbledore’s office and knocked softly before entering at the Headmaster’s invitation.

“Good evening, My Lord, what can I do for you?” Albus greeted as Vlad took a seat.

“I just wanted to update you on that situation we discussed some weeks ago,” he replied before silencing the office, to the indignation of the portrait frames' occupants.

“The Horcruxes?”

“Yes, I’ve done some research and found a ritual to… negate the complications.”

“I wasn’t aware that there were any writings on the subject.”

“I have, in my personal library, some of the oldest magical tomes in existence: many dating back to the earliest days of human writing.” He chuckled at the look of a nearly lust-filled hunger in the mortal man’s face at the thought of access to such volumes. “Perhaps one day, young Albus, but we have more pressing concerns right now,” Vlad chided gently. Albus composed himself and prepared to listen to Vlad’s plans.

“One of those books is the personal journal of the Tyrean magical warlord who developed this process more that six thousand years before my birth. I was fortunate enough to come across this and several journals of other mages who were trying to defeat his work during… a holiday, shall we say… that I took shortly after I was turned. But that is a story for another time. Suffice it to say that I acquired these books as mere historical oddities and sent them back to Transylvania where they were preserved and forgotten for generations.

“First of all, Albus, you need to understand how Horcruxes work. The primary importance is often attributed to the soul-imbued items themselves, but nothing could be further from the truth. The soul fragments on their own are incapable of fully animating any sort of creature, in spite of what the common belief is. They merely serve as an anchor for the wraith that inhabits the body of the fool who uses such magic.

“Now, it is true that the individual soul fragments can, for a time, possess and control a human body; but this is a temporary measure while it attracts the wraith to that body in order to give the control permanence.” Albus sat back and absorbed this new information carefully. “So… what you are saying,” he observed thoughtfully, “is that this… wraith… contains the greater part of the Horcrux maker’s intellect? And that the anchors are irrelevant?”

“Very good, Albus, but not quite,” Vlad replied, amused at the thought of ‘The Great Albus Dumbledore’ being the student for a change. “The wraith contains the sum total of what makes the maker who he or she is – intellect, personality, and – most importantly – their magic. The anchors are relevant as they are what allow the wraith to continue to exist without crossing over or becoming a ghost.”

“So, we simply need to sever the bonds to the anchors, and he’ll cross over?”

The Count sighed deeply, “If it were only that simple. No, Albus, we must destroy the wraith itself. Unfortunately, there’s only one way to do that without having the anchors at hand.”

The sadness that suddenly radiated from the old man caused Albus to prompt gently, “And that is?”

With a deep breath, Vlad went on, “Albus, bear in mind that most of this will be unpleasant; both to hear and to perform. I must ask that you allow me to explain everything before you ask any questions. Do you agree?”

“Of course, My Lord.”

“First of all, we must temporarily transfer the wraith’s anchor to something we have on hand. This is readily done as I have something with a connection to him in my possession. Unfortunately, this is one of the more unpleasant parts. This ritual needs to have an object of great magical significance to the Horcrux maker available. If it is powerful enough, the other connections will be completely broken, as long as the new vessel survives.” He looked directly into his companion’s blue eyes, “This, I fear will be the hardest part for you to accept, Albus. Before I continue, I want you to understand that I have the freely-given, fully informed and totally uncoerced permission of the bearer of this item to perform this ritual. Do you understand and accept this?”

“Yes,” he answered with a concerned, yet quizzical expression on his hairy face.

“Good.” Vlad hesitated before explaining further, “You are aware that Voldemort branded his followers with a rather hideous mark. This mark is a perversion of a slave brand that the Egyptians once used on their slaves to ensure their loyalty to their master. This fool, however, extended it to bind their magic to him as well which is what will allow us to use it in this manner.”

Realization hit Dumbledore like a pile of dragon dung. “No,” he whispered, “you can’t mean…” He stood up in anger and cried, “How could you? After berating me for making life and death decisions for people, you do this! Is this just for revenge or some perverse sense of justice?”

“Sit down!” Dracula roared. “Have you already forgotten what I just said? He gave his consent _freely_, knowing that he could, and probably would, die. I didn’t make this choice – he did.” The vampire calmed as Albus returned to his seat, chastened.

“Yes, Albus, Severus Snape has agreed to allow us to use his Dark Mark.” Vlad took on a questioning air. “I took the time to really speak with him last week. I found it curious that such an intelligent individual could have so much anger and hatred in his heart.

“I fully expected to have to take drastic measures to convince him, but they were unnecessary as he was quite willing to do this. I told him that he could repent his Shame and restore Honour to his House. None of that mattered to him. He said that he would do this ‘for Lily.’ He didn’t elaborate further, and, as it seemed deeply personal, I didn’t press the issue.”

Albus quietly explained, “Lily was Harry’s mother. She and Severus were close friends in their childhood and attended Hogwarts together. They… had a falling out during their fifth year which Severus never accepted his part of the blame for, yet for some reason felt an overwhelming guilt over. May I ask how he is?”

“He is… resigned to his fate. You must realize that the best he can hope for is the loss of his magic. Most likely, he will not survive and he accepts this. The ritual will not work otherwise. He is still imprisoned, yet in much better accommodations. When I sent him there, I also sent a message to my retainers, detailing his crimes against the Clan. My people were… rather enthusiastic in expressing their displeasure with his actions. I’ll be honest with you, Albus, he suffered greatly and, frankly, I’m surprised he survived. He was held in chains, beaten, starved and generally tormented. They healed, fed and cleaned him up, then started again. But he was never broken until…” he trailed off for a moment before carrying on with his tale, “until they made him wash his hair. Quite strange, but, whatever works. My people now know that he has taken actions to not only make amends, but to restore his Family’s honour. They will treat him well. If you and he wish, I can arrange for you to meet beforehand.”

“I would like that.”

“Very well. Next, we must allow the wraith to fully possess and expel young Quirrell.” He raised a hand to forestall any objections. “Face it, Albus; the man is already dead. We’ll be doing him a favour.” Dumbledore, realizing the truth in that statement, accepted the necessity.

“This is a fairly straightforward process,” the Count continued, “My concern is how well Quirrell’s body will take the strain as it’s been controlled for so long without integrating the wraith. Are the rumours that I’ve heard about something attacking the unicorn herd in the forest true?”

“According to my groundskeeper, yes. Something has been feeding on their blood.”

“As much as it pains me, I have to say that it will work to our benefit since I suspect that the wraith has used it to strengthen young Quirrell’s body. No creature should be used like that, especially one so intrinsically pure as a unicorn, but we can take advantage of the situation so their suffering won’t be in vain.

 “Now, this is where things will get tricky. We have to give the wraith enough time to be fully assimilated into the body, but not so long that he can fight us. The next step is something only I can do. I must turn him. While I do that, you must get Harry and bring him to the dungeon my best Runes Masters are preparing for us to do this in. After he’s been turned, but before he gets a chance to feed for the first time, Harry must destroy him.”

“What?” Albus rasped. “Are you insane?”

“Quite possibly, but not about this. Before I explain, I need your word that you will not reveal what I am about to say to anyone, ever. This is something that no currently living mortal knows and very few have ever known. Will you give me your word, Son of Dumbledore?”

Albus, recognizing the formality of the question, responded accordingly, “Yes, My Lord, you have my word.”

“Thank you for trusting me on this, Albus. It has been said that vampires have no soul. This is both true and false. At the turning, the mortal’s soul is consumed to provide the magic to complete the change and to keep the new vampire going until they feed for the first time. As time passes, a… pseudo-soul, if you will… forms to replace that which was consumed. Unfortunately, not much more is known about it than mortals know about their own souls. We, like the mortals, just know it’s there as there would not be… well, anything without it.”

“Thank you for sharing that with me, My Lord. It explains much.” Albus mulled the latest bit of the plan over for a moment. “So, if I understand correctly; at the turning, the wraith would be consumed in place of a normal soul. We would then destroy him to prevent even worse atrocities, then? And what of the true Horcruxes?”

“Pretty much. Think of the damage Voldemort could do in a vampire body. The true Horcruxes would no longer be Horcruxes once the wraith is destroyed as they’d no longer have anything to anchor. That magic should fade fairly quickly.” He furrowed his brows as a thought occurred to him, “One thing I’ve been curious about; why would Voldemort’s wraith come here at all?”

Dumbledore cleared his throat guiltily, “I believe it’s because he somehow discovered that the Philosopher’s Stone was being hidden here.”

“And you question my sanity? What was going through your mind when you brought it to a school full of children?” the vampire exclaimed in horror.

“The Flamels were called away suddenly and had no time to take it to their high security Gringotts vault first. I collected it from them for safekeeping before they left. Immediately after our last discussion, I contacted them and they once again have it in their possession.”

“Good,” Vlad sighed in relief. “You do realize that it was a foolish thing to do, don’t you? Dark Wizards aside, just think of what could happen if one of your students came across it. I don’t even know what possessed Nicholas to make the damned thing in the first place. Too many alchemic experiments gone wrong, I guess.  Anyway, back to the Horcruxes. After we’re done, they should be rendered useless.”

The old Headmaster nodded his understanding before asking the question that bothered him the most, “Why involve Harry at all?”

Grandpa Vlad slumped even deeper into his seat. “That is the part of this plan I truly hate, my young friend. First of all, there’s this damned prophecy. Now, I don’t normally put much stock in such things, but I have a bad feeling about this one and I’ve learned to trust my instincts. Secondly, this will give him a chance to get closure and bring honour to his Family. They gave their lives for him and this will allow him to make their sacrifice worthwhile.”

“Why separate him at all, then? Why not have him witness the whole thing? It seems that having to fetch him would be time wasted and could possibly be dangerous?”

“You’re right, but I’m, quite honestly, afraid. His scar could attract the connection to the wraith and I won’t take that chance. I’ve become quite fond of that young man, not to mention the fact that Hermione would never forgive me if something happened to him.”

Dumbledore nodded as he retrieved the bottle of Firewhisky he had opened after the Count’s first visit to the school and two glasses from his desk and poured them each a generous portion. Handing a glass to his guest, he took a drink from his own. “It’s safe to assume, then, that their friendship is progressing as you thought?”

A smile graced the vampire’s face as he swallowed the harsh liquor, “Better than I thought, to be honest. Oh, while I’m thinking of it, I should let you know that the Wizengamot was convinced to recognize Harry’s Lordship. Also, those Muggles you placed him with were quite willing to sign their guardianship over to Hermione’s parents. Well, after I did this…” he allowed his canines to elongate.

Albus laughed out loud, “I wish I’d been there for that.” Sobering, he gazed into his glass of Firewhisky as he softly added, “You asked me before if I had any regrets.” He turned his gaze up to the other man. “I do have one: I regret that Harry lost his parents and had to be subjected to those people. Yes, there were Wizarding families that could have taken him in, but the ones most likely to succeed were suspected of having been part of Voldemort’s Inner Circle. I couldn’t allow that.” He took another deep drink and refilled both glasses.

Vlad looked at him and accepted the implied apology, “I’m glad you got that off of your chest. Now you just have to tell Harry that. In any case, whether or not our plans work, he’ll be safe. If necessary, I can move him and my family to my castle. They’ll be safe there as it’s in Transylvania and no one has been able to find the whole country in five hundred years.” He grinned, “Now, let me tell you how I found those two when I visited them this evening…”

NSMNSMNSM

The turbaned young man was roaming the abandoned areas deep in the castle dungeons, once again muttering to himself in two voices.

“I-it’s n-not here, M-master,” stammered one.

“I can see that, fool. Keep searching,” the other hissed.

“We-we’re t-too close t-to the S-s-slytherin dorms, M-master.”

“I know where we are, you idiot. _Crucio_!” As he fell to the floor, writhing in pain, he thought,_ “I wish I’d quit doing that.”_

NSMNSMNSM

**A/N2:** For those of you not familiar with 1970s British rock, Draco’s song is a poorly executed adaptation of ‘Iron Man’ by the legendary Black Sabbath. Sadly, I don’t own the rights to that, either.


	3. Chapter 3

Not So Muggleborn

by

grenouille

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Things would be very different if it were. Of course, then kids couldn’t read it, either, as, unlike Jo, I’m well aware of what teenagers get up to…

**A/N:** Many thanks to Vern (aka Herman Tumbleweed) for his magnificent betaing skills and oh-so-appropriate suggestions. Also, thanks to the members of the HermansTumbledweeds Yahoo! Group for their support and many (often amusing) suggestions.

Chapter 3

A wizard with long white hair and beard stood at the parapet of the Astronomy Tower, his obscenely colourful robes flapping in the stiff breeze, watching as the Hogwarts Express steamed its way out of snowy Hogsmeade. He reflected on his many trips on the scarlet and gold locomotive during his seven years as a student, wondering how his life got so damned complicated.

Another man appeared behind him and also observed the quaint setting. He cleared his throat softly so as not to startle the flamboyantly dressed wizard as he, too, approached the parapet and admired the scenery.

“I always enjoyed the view from here, Albus,” Vlad reflected quietly, not wanting to disturb the peaceful atmosphere. “It’s amazing; other than the train, it really doesn’t look that much different than it did when Hogwarts first opened.”

“This is my favourite place in the castle. I often come here to think or simply unwind for a few minutes.” Albus chuckled softly, “At least when it’s not occupied by students out after curfew. It can be… a bit distracting then.”

The immortal joined his chuckles, and teased, “As if you didn’t spend your fair share of time here as well, Albus.”

“Of course not, sir,” he retorted with feigned insult, and then confessed with a cheeky grin, “I had gained access to the Prefects’ Bath by my third year.” The old men laughed together as similar thoughts of past conquests passed through their individual memories.

“So, Albus,” the Count’s tone grew more serious, “has it been confirmed that Quirrell will be remaining in the castle for the holiday?”

“Yes. All of the junior staff members are expected to remain and monitor the few students that stay here over the break.”

Vlad nodded. “Excellent. All is in readiness in Transylvania. I will collect Harry and the Grangers on your Boxing Day. That evening, I will have one of my people visit you here and bring you to my home the next morning. I would like for you to get to know Josef a bit as he has generously offered to act as your Defence professor for the remainder of the school year, unless you’ve already found someone?”

Albus shook his head dejectedly, “No. The Defence position has been the bane of my existence for many years. I’ve had to fill it annually since the mid-1960s. Some of my options have been… limited to say the least.”

“Fine, then. I think you’ll like him. He’s, if anything, over-qualified, but if Quirrell is typical of what you’ve had in the past, that may be a good thing. He should be able to easily handle the students as well. He has a son, Viktor, who is in his fourth year at Durmstrang.”

“That should be quite satisfactory, and thank you. If all works out well enough, would he be available to continue in the position?”

“That would be between you and him. I have no objection. Now, getting back to our more immediate situation: when you arrive I’ll give you access to English translations of the journals I mentioned. The originals are mostly in Phoenician, Sumerian, and I believe Elamite, although the original research is in some unnamed magical language that no one now living can read. I was fortunate to have the last living person who understood it enchant a translation stone for that tongue about two thousand years ago. Needless to say, it is quite valuable and very well protected.”

“I-I would imagine so,” Dumbledore choked out.

“I…” Vlad hesitated for a long moment, “I would like you to double-check my conclusions, Albus.” At the other wizard’s look of surprise, he went on, “Albus, you have a well-deserved reputation as a scholar and a researcher and I would value your input. This… this plan is fraught with risk and I fear the worst if we were to fail.”

The elderly human stayed silent out of respect for the vampire’s obvious pain.

Vlad gazed vacantly across the snow-covered grounds. “I wish there were an easier way to do this,” he finally whispered. “I wish we could take this burden from him; both for his sake and my granddaughter’s.” He sighed. “Those children have touched me in a way that I thought was no longer possible.” He turned, faced Albus and chuckled sadly, “Contrary to popular belief not all vampires are cold heartless monsters.”

“Perhaps the pseudo-soul is more like a normal human soul than has been thought?”

Vlad reflected on this for a moment. “Perhaps. In any case, that is why I will take on the burden of telling Harry about all of this. He’ll probably take it better from me, anyway. You can make your apologies to him after this is over. I’ll see you next week.” With a brief nod in farewell, he vanished.

Dumbledore stared off into the distance, mentally following the Express as it made its way through the wintry Scottish countryside. “Yes, Harry,” he whispered, “I owe you that much.”

NSMNSMNSM

Harry and Hermione spent a pleasant train ride together, having the compartment to themselves as few were comfortable spending any more time with the Drakul heiress than necessary. This included, fortunately for their peace of mind and new closeness, the vast numbers of Boy-Who-Lived fan girls and boys.

Their only visitors were two of Hermione’s dorm mates, Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis (who simply wanted to wish them a Happy Christmas), and the Weasley twins, Fred and George. The Gryffindor pranksters had somehow come to the conclusion that Hermione and Harry were behind Draco’s behaviour on Hallowe’en and had been pestering them all term, wanting to know how they did it.

At this point, however, Hermione had had enough. She hadn’t minded so much while they were at school as the twins were, to say the least, amusing in their efforts. But now they were interrupting her holiday:  a holiday that her developing femininity wanted to spend exploring her relationship with a certain dark-haired friend. She pulled out her medallion and carefully placed it on her breast. “Are you absolutely _certain_,” she purred, “that you want to know?” The red-haired terrors ran out of the compartment as Hermione and Harry roared with laughter. They spent the remainder of the trip cuddled together reading, talking and stealing the occasional innocent kiss.

It was after one of those kisses that Hermione screwed up the courage to ask a question that had been plaguing her for a couple of weeks. “Harry, what are we?”

“What do you mean, Hermione?” he responded in typical eleven year old boy fashion.

“I mean… I know we’re friends, but…” She was uncharacteristically fumbling for her words.

Realization hit the young wizard like a dung bomb. Blushing, he asked, “Do you mean are we just friends or… _friends_ friends?”

“Yeah,” her face reddened to match his. “I mean… I know we’re still young, but…” she trailed off.

Nervous silence filled the compartment until Harry stuttered, “… b-but you’re p-pretty special to me, too.” Emerald green eyes locked on chocolate brown ones as their lips tentatively met in a mostly chaste, but emotionally-charged, kiss. Both were amazed at the feelings this caused them to experience. Even though they had shared small kisses before, this one took things to a whole new level.

As they sat together recovering from the new sensations, the bushy-haired witch shyly asked, “Does this mean I can introduce you as my boyfriend?”

Harry’s eyes glowed brightly with pleasure. “I-I’d like that, but,” mischief worked its way into the happiness, “only if it won’t make your dad try to kill me.”

“I’ll protect you, Harry. Besides,” her snickers turned into an over-the-top faux haughty air, “he wouldn’t dare interfere with the Heiress of Clan Drakul and her chosen Consort.” As the resultant laughter faded away, they returned to their reading, talking and stealing the occasional slightly less innocent kiss.

They were soon crossing through the barrier between Platform 9 ¾ and the Muggle side of the station with both of their trunks stacked on one trolley, eyes glowing with happiness. They quickly spotted the elder Grangers and, after introductions and a traffic-snarled nightmare of a drive, were soon ensconced in the Granger home in Crawley.

The next few days were spent in a rush of shopping, gift-wrapping, shopping, embarrassing discussions, shopping, homework, and shopping. Hermione’s mum, Alice, had taken her aside soon after getting home for an explanation of why she had introduced Harry as her boyfriend. An hour of loud words, tears and hugs later had Alice adding her glares and threats every time that Ralph, Hermione’s dad, tried to play the ‘protective father’ routine. With two women (one of whom was a witch) getting more annoyed with him by the hour, he finally gave up; much to Harry’s relief.

Finally, Christmas Day arrived. Harry had been secretly dreading it as he had no idea of what Christmas with a family was supposed to be like. By the end of the day, the combined efforts of Hermione, her parents and Grandpa Vlad had thoroughly indoctrinated him to the joys of celebrating the holidays with a loving family.

Late that night after everybody had gone to bed, Harry, for the first time in his memory, wept for his parents and all that he’d missed out on growing up with the Dursleys.

Hearing the quiet sobs from the next room, Hermione silently crept into his room and sat on the edge of his bed. She tentatively reached out and brushed his hair back as she whispered, “Harry, what’s wrong?”

Startled by the contact, the upset wizard rolled away and replied, as he wiped his eyes, “N-nothing. What are you doing here?”

“I heard you, Harry. What’s wrong?”

“N…,” he took a deep breath, “Nothing really, I guess. I… I’ve just never had a Christmas before; at least one I can remember. I… I guess I was just feeling sorry for myself. I’m sorry if I woke you.” He hung his head in shame.

“Oh, Harry.” She lay next to him and held him tightly and whispered in his ear, “It’s okay. Just remember what Grandpa said: you never have to go back to them ever again. You have Grandpa, my parents, and… and me. You may not have any happy holiday memories now, but we’ll see to it that we make some together, okay?”

Pulling his face back and locking eyes with her, he said, “Well, I do have one…” Both of them smiling in response, they shared a tender kiss. “You’d better go before we wake your parents.”

“Yeah.” Slowly releasing him, she got up and crossed to the door. “Good night, Harry.”

“Good night, Hermione. And thanks.” She nodded once as she slipped through the door and back to her own bed.

NSMNSMNSM

Vlad walked into one of the many libraries in his castle to see an elderly wizard poring over a large stack of manuscripts. Impressed with the amount of attention being given to the old writings, he sat across the table from the wizard and greeted him, “Good morning, Albus. Are you enjoying yourself?”

Dumbledore looked up. “Good morning, My Lord. Yes, I am in fact.” He waved his arm widely across the room. “This library is magnificent. I don’t recall ever seeing one like this short of the magical one at Alexandria. I must admit that I find myself rather envious.”

“High praise, indeed, young Albus,” grinned the vampire. “But as the Americans say, ‘you ain’t seen nuthin’, yet.’ This is only one of several in the castle, and is solely dedicated to necromancy and various other soul magics. The Transfiguration and Alchemy libraries are each nearly three times this size and my Charms collection requires two rooms by itself.” He laughed self-indulgently. “One drawback to immortality is that you tend to collect a large number of books.” Albus shared in his host’s humour.

“I spoke with Harry this morning.” The sudden topic change darkened the previously happy atmosphere.

“Oh? And how is he now?”

Vlad sighed, “Resigned to it, I guess. Of course, he ranted and raved for a bit, but at the end, he accepted it and what he needs to do.” He paused as certain memories came to him. “I don’t know about these Potter men. All of the ones that I’ve known have always raged in anger when something unpleasant came up, but once they have gotten it out of their system, they’ve calmly done what has needed to be done.”

“That’s been my experience with that family as well. It seems to be intrinsically part of their nature.” Albus stopped and smiled, “I’m certain that it’s helped by their tendency to find strong, supportive and highly intelligent women. Quite passionate, too, if the four Mrs Potters I’ve known have been any indication.”

“You’ve noticed that as well? His first thought, after he calmed down, was to go to Hermione. I’m sure they’re canoodling somewhere, comforting each other.” He glared for a moment before sighing again. “You had to bring up that passionate bit, didn’t you? That’s been true of the ones I’ve known, as well. Oh well, as long as they don’t do anything that they aren’t truly ready for, or,” he cringed, “add to the already far too many ‘greats’ before ‘grandpa’. I’ve already lost track.”

“You seem to be unconcerned about the thought of their relationship… progressing.”

“In my youth, they would have been married, or nearly so, by now. As long as they continue to demonstrate the same maturity that they have been, I have no problems with it. Besides,” a sly look crept into his eyes, “that just moves my retirement date up.” He stood up, “Anyway, I’ll leave you to this. Please join us for dinner at seven. I’ll send a house-elf for you.”

“I would like that. Thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome. I’d suggest that, if you don’t find any serious problems by tomorrow afternoon, we proceed tomorrow night. I’d like to get this behind us so that the children can enjoy their lives, if for no other reason.”

“You’re just thinking about your retirement again.” Albus snickered. “In any case, I agree.”

NSMNSMNSM

Hermione was reclining on a settee staring out of a window in the tower overlooking the solitary road up the steep mountain peak that Castle Drakul was built on. Harry was dozing fitfully with his head in her lap, exhausted from the stress and horror of telling her what he’d learned from Grandpa that morning.

_“It’s so unfair,”_ she thought as she tenderly brushed his hair away from the lightning-bolt scar on his forehead.

“How is he?” came a gentle inquiry.

Hermione turned to see Grandpa Vlad entering the room. “Sleeping, finally,” the despondent young witch replied. She looked back down at her boyfriend and continued to stroke his forehead. “How can this be happening, Grandpa? Why does it have to be him?”

The old man got down on one knee and embraced her warmly, running his hand through her bushy locks. “He told you of the prophecy?” She nodded morosely. “Then, that‘s why. Now, I normally don’t care about such things, as even a true prophecy is often very subjective, but… this Voldemort character evidently believed it. Even if it’s untrue, he’ll continue to act upon it if he’s not stopped, thereby _making_ it true. Do you understand this?”

“You’re talking about a self-fulfilling prophecy, right?”

“Exactly, my child.”

“But… why can’t you and Professor Dumbledore, erm… finish it? Why does it have to be Harry?” her voice began to crack as she fought her tears.

Grandpa held her tighter and explained, “I suppose it could be possible for us to try, but it’s just… better to play to the prophecy. Think of this, Hermione… what if it _is_ true? What if Harry _is_ the only one who can destroy this Voldemort? Isn’t it better that he do it while we are around to protect him?” He drew back and gently brushed the tears that were starting to flow from her reddening eyes. “I promise, Hermione, we’ll take care of him for you. We will do everything in our power to protect him. You both are far too important to me to do otherwise.”

She sniffled a little, then looked at him seriously and asked in a tiny voice, “Can I help?”

Smiling tenderly, Grandpa Vlad gestured at the sleeping boy’s head in his granddaughter’s lap with a nod of his head. “You already are, my child. You already are.”

NSMNSMNSM

A large bat flew silently down the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side of Hogwarts. Finally sensing its prey, it entered the shadows and transformed into a man. He listened carefully as a young wizard with a ridiculous purple turban muttered to himself constantly in two alternating voices. Sighing, the man drew a seldom-used wand from his robes and flicked it towards the wizard. Vlad ran to his fallen victim and draped a rune-covered stone on a thick leather thong around his neck before binding and petrifying him.

“Who dares..!” arose a sibilant hiss from underneath the turban.

Amused, Vlad rolled the body onto its chest and removed the turban to reveal a chalk-white, snake-like face. “I do.”

A wisp of black smoke started to flow out of the face, but was immediately sucked back in. After several more attempts, the hiss returned, “What is this magic? I am Lord Voldemort! Release me immediately!”

The vampire chuckled as he brought his face close to that of Voldemort’s, allowing the wraith to clearly see him. He laughed harder at the wraith’s look of confusion as he seemed to recognise his captor, but couldn’t put a name to the face. “Come, _my lord_,” he added sarcastically. “You have an appointment with fate.”

NSMNSMNSM

Vlad and his bound, and now silenced, prisoner appeared in the deepest dungeon of Castle Drakul. The wraith had really gotten on his nerves with its constant stream of threats, boasting, pleading and whinging. He floated the body housing the wraith onto a slab, before turning to one of the wizards who were waiting for them. “Are we ready?” he asked a dark-haired wizard.

“Yes, My Liege,” replied Josef Krum. “We’re just waiting for Dumbledore and Snape to arrive.”

“Good, good,” he said excitedly, rubbing his hands together. “Thank you again, Josef, for taking over the teaching position at Hogwarts. Is all to your liking with it?”

“Yes, My Liege. It will be difficult to get the children caught up to where they really should be, but I believe I can accomplish it.” He paused. “The only issue I have is that Headmaster Dumbledore is adamant that no so-called Dark Arts be taught at all. He does understand that the children need to know what they are facing and defending against, but it appears that the British government has a very… different… definition than the rest of the world.”

Vlad nodded sagely, “Yes, they are very… different. Do not worry, Josef, and teach as you see fit. I will be taking care of the Wizengamot personally. Also, the Headmaster has asked me if you could continue to teach after this term, assuming that all works out. I told him -- and am telling you -- that it is entirely between the two of you. If you find that you enjoy it, feel free to continue. If not, then return home. Your place will be assured.”

Josef dipped his head in relief, “Thank you, My Liege. I will consider it.”

Dumbledore and Snape entered the chamber; the latter, after exchanging a glance with his friend and mentor, silently taking his place on a slab matching the one that Quirrell was on.

Vlad joined Albus at the younger wizard’s side. Taking on an official air, he stated firmly, “Severus, Son of House Prince, do you still agree to your place in this ritual?”

“I-I do, My Lord,” he responded in the same formal manner.

“Then all bear witness: this Son of Prince has not only redeemed himself of his own former Shame, but has restored Honour to his House in a way that none shall decry.” A murmur of approval swept the room.

Vlad looked around the room, catching the eyes of the wizards present, before asking, “Are we all ready?” At the various affirmative replies, he calmly commanded, “Then let us begin.”

NSMNSMNSM

Up in a high tower was the more modern of the Count’s Charms libraries. Ralph and Alice were calmly reading some dental magazines while Hermione was enthusiastically perusing the vast collection. Harry was pacing nervously.

Picking up on her boyfriend’s mood, the bookish young witch came up to him and hugged him. “What’s wrong?”

Pausing his pacing, he held her tightly. “I don’t know,” he muttered into her bushy hair, “but something’s not right…” he trailed off and raised a hand to rub his scar. Suddenly, he collapsed to the floor, his face contorted in pain and blood flowing freely from his lightning-bolt scar. His young body started to violently convulse as a piercing cry escaped his lips.

NSMNSMNSM

Snape’s cries filled the chamber as the links to the Horcruxes were transferred to his Dark Mark. He finally lapsed into unconsciousness while Vlad’s other wizards immediately began the ritual to restore the wraith to Quirrell’s body. Albus ran to his side as Vlad gestured to the others to begin the next stage before following the elderly mortal. “How is he?” the vampire asked as he watched the Headmaster wave his wand over the now silent former Death Eater.

“He’s still alive, but just barely,” replied Albus grimly. He looked up at his companion. “I hope this works. It seems to have been… painful.”

Vlad placed a reassuring hand on the other wizard’s shoulder. “I know it was, Albus, and I am sorry he – and you – had to experience this. But it will be worth it, I’m certain.”

A wisp of cold air got Vlad’s and Albus’ attention. Looking up, they saw the form of a young man fade away. “Farewell, Quirinus Quirrell,” muttered the Count. “May you find peace.”

The chanting from the other wizards in the room was interrupted by a yell of rage. “What is this outrage? Who dares bind me?”

With a chuckle, Vlad approached the re-embodied wraith, followed by Dumbledore, who simply said, “Hello, Tom.”

“Dumbledore,” the wraith growled. “Who is your friend? A new lover, perhaps? A bit young for you, isn’t he?”

Trying to hide his amusement, Vlad drew Voldemort’s attention. “The important question is: who am I to you, Son of Slytherin?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care…” he trailed off as realization and no small amount of fear began to sink in. “No… it can’t be…”

Vlad smirked. “Yes, it can.”

Voldemort’s struggles continued as he spat out, “No matter. I’ll deal with you as I have all the others. I am Lord Voldemort! I cannot be…” His voice disappeared as Vlad waved his hand, silencing the raving madman.

“Son of Slytherin, you have Shamed yourself and your noble House – the House of one of my dearest friends. It is time to pay for your treacherous crimes.”

He turned away and drew Albus to the side of the room. “It is time for you to collect Harry.” Vlad handed him a small, rune-covered disk. “This Portkey will take you directly to the library they’re waiting for us in and back. Give me about fifteen minutes before returning.” He released a soft sigh. “I don’t think you’ll want to see this, and I know I don’t want Harry to.” He snorted in laughter. “Or Hermione, either, though I don’t doubt that she’ll find a way to accompany you.”

Albus’ eyes twinkled in amusement as he activated the Portkey.

The Count returned to Voldemort’s side. “Tom Marvolo Riddle, you will now get to experience your fondest dream – immortality,” he paused dramatically, “for about fifteen minutes. I hope you enjoy it for as long as it lasts.” Riddle’s eyes widened in fear as the vampire drew closer, canines elongating as he approached.

NSMNSMNSM

Albus, uncharacteristically dressed in plain, dark robes, appeared in the Charms Library to quiet chaos. Harry was unconscious on a couch with Hermione dabbing at a trickle of blood on his forehead. “What has happened, Miss Granger?” he asked, the concern in his voice evident.

Hermione silently continued her ministrations, fear plainly manifesting itself on her young face, as Alice answered for her daughter, “We don’t know, Headmaster. He was really antsy; pacing around nervously. Then he started rubbing his forehead before it began to bleed liberally and a slimy substance oozed out with the blood. Then, he started screaming and fell to the floor and began to have a convulsive fit before he passed out. It only stopped bleeding a few minutes ago.”

The old wizard nodded as he waved his wand over the boy, scowling at the results. He sat heavily in an armchair to collect his thoughts.

“Well?” Hermione demandingly interrupted his musings.

Albus sighed. “It seems that your grandfather’s concern about Harry’s scar was well-deserved. There are signs of some terrible magic being purged from it. In any case, he seems to be alright now; just exhausted.  Unfortunately, he still has a task to perform.”

“How can you…” Alice started to object.

“Mum,” Hermione gently interrupted, “he’s right.” She turned to the Headmaster. “Let’s go.”

“Miss Granger… Hermione,” he began gently, “it might be best if you remained. It will not be pleasant. The Clan’s Healer is in attendance and I’m certain he’ll be able to help Harry.”

“Dumbledore,” she growled in a tone eerily suggestive of the Count’s.

“You are truly your grandfather’s descendant,” he chuckled. “Very well, let us be off.”

NSMNSMNSM

Vlad turned at the sound of an arriving Portkey to see Albus and his granddaughter appear with an unconscious Harry. Dumbledore levitated the boy to an empty table as the Healer left Snape’s side to attend the youth. “What happened, Albus?” the Count asked the elderly wizard.

“It seems that you were correct about Harry’s scar. He seems to have had a reaction similar to Severus’, except that his scar bled while some sort of other substance came out with the blood. I ran a scan and he seems to be fine, but I thought it prudent to allow the Healer to bring him around.”

“Yes, I agree.” He nodded towards his granddaughter. “I see she convinced you to bring her along.”

“Yes, well,” Albus faltered, “when I tried to convince her to stay, she said my name in a way that was disturbingly reminiscent of some of the things you said to me the first time we met in my office.” A smirk crossed his face as he concluded, “I’d say, that whenever you decide to retire, the Clan will be in good hands.”

Grandpa Vlad’s deep belly laugh was interrupted by the Healer. “My Liege, the young man will be fine with some rest. I’ve given him a Pepper-up potion to get him through this nonsense, but I would suggest that we get on with it. He won’t last long.”

“Very well. Thank you, Dimitri; you’ve done your usual excellent work.” Dismissing the man, he turned to Albus with a forlorn look. “I guess it’s time.” Albus silently agreed.

“Hermione,” Grandpa called across the room, “could you and Harry join us?”

The young heiress helped her boyfriend off of the table he was lying on and they slowly crossed the room together. “Yes, Grandpa?”

The vampire took both children into his arms as he led them to the slab that Voldemort was still struggling on. “It’s time, my children.” He handed Hermione off to Josef, who drew her a short distance away and gestured to the bound person before them. “Harry, my child, this is your foe. Are you ready to fulfil your destiny?”

“Y-yes, Grandpa.” Harry choked out, with a glance at Hermione.

A wave of Vlad’s hand revealed a fine short sword on a small table next to the slab. The hilt and guard were encrusted with emeralds and the blade shone with a black fire. “This is the sword of Salazar Slytherin. I gave each of the Hogwarts Founders a unique sword as a gift to celebrate the opening of the school and in recognition of their loyalty throughout their lives. I felt that it would be fitting that this _thing’s_ punishment be meted out with this blade as he has Shamed his House.

“It is an incredibly magical blade – one of the four finest ever forged by the Dwarves of the North. It requires intent more than physical strength and will sever any flesh with but one strike.”

Harry stared in awe at the beautiful blade that seemed to be more a work of art than a weapon. He reached for it hesitantly.

“Harry,” Vlad prodded softly, “it’s time. I would take this chore from you if I could, but…” he trailed off sadly.

Swallowing hard, the young wizard picked up the sword and weighed it in his hand, marvelling at how light it was. He turned and faced the now vampiric Voldemort, who stared at him with a feral grin. Harry started to raise the sword, but then hesitated.

“Now, Harry,” Grandpa quietly insisted, “Do it now.”

Harry’s and Voldemort’s eyes were locked in a silent battle of wills. As Harry started to gradually lower the weapon, Hermione pulled away from Josef and ran to Harry. Putting her arms around him from behind, she whispered into his ear, “Please, Harry, for me.”

A sideways glance into her loving chocolate brown eyes was all it took. The raven-haired wizard stepped quickly away from the girl, took a deep breath and raised the sword high above his head before slamming it forcefully against the exposed throat of his parents’ murderer. One stroke was indeed all it took as Voldemort’s head fell to the floor and the contents of Harry’s stomach spewed onto the headless body on the slab. The sword slipped from the boy’s grip as he slumped to the floor, drained physically and emotionally.

It was done.

NSMNSMNSM

Harry woke up in his comfortable bed in Castle Drakul to darkness with a feeling of weight on his chest. He felt around and discovered a mass of bushy hair and a warm body draped across him. “Hermione!” he whispered as he shook what he hoped was her shoulder. “Hermione, what are you doing here?”

“H-harry?” she yawned as she sat up. “W-what’s wrong?”

“What are you doing here?” he repeated. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but what if you’re caught?”

Chuckling quietly, she replied, “It’s okay, Grandpa sent me up here. You weren’t sleeping too well after what… what happened. How about you? Are… are you okay?” Her soft voice grew more sombre, yet reassuring in its closeness.

The events of the previous night replayed in his mind and his stomach churned as he remembered what had been required of him. “I’m okay, I guess. What time is it?”

Hermione reached for her wand on the bedside table. A muttered _Lumos_ allowed her to see the clock. “It’s two in the morning. You’ve been out for about a day. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Harry sat up and leaned against the headboard before putting his glasses on. Taking his girlfriend into his arms as she moved up beside him, he finally answered, “I suppose I’m alright, but I’d rather not do anything like that again. What’s been happening since I’ve been up here?”

“Well, first of all, you passed out from magical exhaustion. More from when the Horcrux in your scar was cut off than from… what you had to do. You seemed to be having nightmares, so Grandpa and Dimitri thought having something to cuddle with would help.” She giggled for a moment before admitting sheepishly, “I, uh, volunteered.”

Harry gave her a soft kiss. “Thank you.” He laughed. “I hope it wasn’t too onerous a chore.”

“Not at all.” She punctuated it with a kiss and a giggle of her own. “Anyway, Grandpa and Professor Dumbledore verified that Voldemort’s gone for good and destroyed the body. Even though we’re going to have a celebration when you feel better, it’s going to be confined to the castle’s inhabitants. They felt that since everybody already thought he was dead, it would serve no purpose to tell the world about it.”

Harry nodded his agreement before quietly adding, “You were a lot of help, you know. I never could have done it without you. I…” he hesitated, “I felt like I couldn’t do it until you came up behind me.”

Hermione blushed before her expression grew pensive. “I realized something tonight, Harry. I could have lost you. If we hadn’t been in that protected room, you could have died when they cut off the connection to the Horcruxes. Snape did die shortly after Grandpa turned Voldemort. He said that the magic’s attempts to reconnect with the wraith drained his magic and life force.” She held him tighter as tears started to form.

The young wizard put his glasses back on the table and scooted himself down back to a lying position, taking his witch with him. He peppered her face with soft kisses before reassuring her, “I’m okay, and you’re okay, and the bad guy’s gone.”

She sniffled as she said, “I know, but… it made me realize just how important you are to me. I… I love you, Harry.”

Shock and wonder filled Harry’s face as he heard words that he’d never heard, or even expected to, before. “I… love you, too.”

It was quite a while and many passionate kisses before the youngsters went back to sleep, comfortably ensconced in each others’ arms.

NSMNSMNSM

The young couple entered the family dining room in time for breakfast, arm-in-arm, to cheers from the household. Grandpa Vlad, Ralph, Alice and even Dumbledore rushed to embrace the young hero. Embarrassed, Harry tried to shy away from all of the attention, but the inhabitants of Castle Drakul would have none of it. The party that began that evening lasted until well into New Years’ Day.

Of course, the whole time wasn’t spent in fun and games. As the magnitude of what he’d had to do set in, Harry spent many hours screaming, yelling and crying at the injustice and horror of it all. Long talks with Vlad and Dumbledore, as well as the freely-given love of Hermione, got him through the rough days and nights until he was able to accept that he’d only done what he had to do to protect his family.

Family. Something else he’d never expected.

NSMNSMNSM


	4. Chapter 4

Not So Muggleborn

by

grenouille

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Things would be very different if it were. Of course, then kids couldn’t read it, either, as, unlike Jo, I’m well aware of what teenagers get up to…

**A/N:** Many thanks to Vern (aka Herman Tumbleweed) for his magnificent betaing skills and oh-so-appropriate suggestions. Also, thanks to the members of the HermansTumbledweeds Yahoo! Group for their support and many (often amusing) suggestions.

Epilogue

The rest of the school year passed in relative peace. People were still somewhat afraid of Hermione, though, but she and Harry didn’t let that bother them.

They spent the summer split between the Grangers’ home in Crawley and Castle Drakul. With Vlad’s help, Harry was able to gain access to the Potter Vaults and retrieve his Family Ring, as well as learn something of them through the documents stored there. They spent the summer as normal children should: laughing, playing, and expanding the limits of their friendship and newly-realized love.

It was during this time that the Count approached the Wizengamot and re-asserted his control over Magical Britain. At first, the Wizengamot members laughed at the old vampire, but that only lasted until he exercised his control as Liege to all but the Potter, Longbottom, Bones and Greengrass families. Even though the Wizengamot and the Ministry of Magic were left in place to perform their same functions, he made it clear how he expected things to be run and what changes were to be made. It would take several years for all of the changes that he wanted made to be implemented, but eventually the Magical UK would catch up with the rest of the Magical World.

That summer also saw the release of Sirius Black. The documents in the Potter Vault proved without a doubt that Peter Pettigrew was their Secret Keeper, not Sirius as had been previously thought. Even though he’d spent much of his time in Azkaban in his Animagus form (a large, black Grim), he was still suffering from the effects of his long proximity to the Dementors. Vlad took his duties as Liege-Lord to House Black seriously and arranged for Sirius to undergo whatever treatment he needed to help him regain his magical, mental, and physical strength. Harry, unfortunately, would have to wait quite some time before he could get to know his godfather.

Second year came and went as any school year should – uneventfully. Josef Krum returned as Defence professor and was very popular with the students and staff.

After the Welcoming Feast, Harry and Hermione were cuddled in their regular spot in the Slytherin Common Room, discretely listening to the gossip from their fellow second-years.

“Where’s Draco?” Pansy Parkinson was questioning everybody as she hadn’t seen him since they got off the train in June.

Everybody looked to Crabbe and Goyle for an answer, but the bookends just shrugged their shoulders in confusion.

“I heard a rumour,” offered Blaise Zabini. “I heard that… _he_… visited them.”

Pansy perked up at this. “You mean,” her voice dropped to a whisper, “the Dark Lord has actually returned?”

“No, you silly bint, I mean the Count.” Zabini shuddered in fear. “You all heard him back at Hallowe’en. He told Draco’s dad that he’d deal with him later. I guess it was finally later.”

The children all stared at him as thoughts of horrible torture passed through their young minds.

“Maybe he killed them?”

“I heard that his mum was being forced to, er, take care of all the men there.”

“Or maybe they’re all vampires, now.”

“What if he took their magic and they have to live as Muggles?”

The young couple snickered quietly, knowing that Narcissa and Draco were living in a flophouse in Knockturn Alley, begging for scraps. Lucius, on the other hand, _was_ dead and his head was presented to the Wizengamot as a reminder to those who might be foolish enough to forget their Family Vows.

The only other item of note that year was that Harry and Hermione met Moaning Myrtle, a ghost who haunted one of the girls’ loos. After many conversations with the sad teenage ghost, she finally told them the story of her demise, which led to the discovery of the legendary Chamber of Secrets. Vlad was especially happy about this as it allowed him to reminisce about his old friend and correct the many misconceptions that had been passed down through the centuries.

Harry, Hermione, and Albus convinced him to tell some of his stories of the Founders and the building of Hogwarts to the history classes. The ancient wizard, to his own great surprise, found that he quite enjoyed sharing the classes with his old friend, Cuthbert; even if only for a while. Even Binns took extensive notes so he could pass this rare information on to future generations of Hogwarts students.

The so-called monster was proven to be Slytherin’s basilisk familiar, who had been tasked with protecting the school. Harry, as a Parselmouth, was able to confirm that Willie would continue to serve this duty without harming the staff or students.

The summer after Second Year brought a change to the kids’ summer routine. In addition to the usual fun that twelve and thirteen year olds were expected to have, they spent time with Grandpa and some of his retainers learning about their places in society and magic long thought lost. By this time, Hermione had completely broken Harry of his Dursley-inspired habit of underachieving and they advanced quickly, becoming very powerful in the process.

The summer ended with Dumbledore announcing that he would be stepping down from his positions as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. He had stayed on this long only at the request of the Count to facilitate an orderly transition of power.

Third year started with the continued presence of Professor Krum, finally convincing everyone that the apparent curse on the job was well and truly broken. By Christmas, Hermione’s and Harry’s growing hormones had led them steadily closer and, although they’d yet to take the final step in their physical relationship, the young couple was already thinking in terms of making life-changing decisions together.

This year also was the first time that the two were able to form other friendships. The changes in British Magical society, along with the other students’ growing familiarity with the Drakul Heiress and the Boy-Who-Lived, caused some of the fear to fade and some brave students started to approach them. Most notable of these were the Weasley twins who, after realizing that Hermione’s threats on the train were a devious prank, became life-long friends and their most staunch supporters. Oddly enough, Neville Longbottom, Susan Bones, and Daphne Greengrass – the heirs to the only other old British families not Oathbound to the Clan – were also among the very few that Harry and Hermione could truly call friends.

The following summer continued their lessons until it was time for the Quidditch World Cup where they finally met Professor Krum’s son, Viktor. For the first time, Harry and Hermione were able to form a friendship that wasn’t coloured by fear or uncertainty. Viktor, having been raised in the Clan, was mostly unaffected by their noble rank and accepted them as the people they were.

Fourth Year saw the return of the Triwizard Tournament. Harry and Hermione, to the consternation of their Hogwarts classmates, cheered for their friend, Viktor, rather than Cedric Diggory, the Hogwarts Champion. Harry, of course, was just happy to not have to worry about things like dragons, merpeople, and creature-filled mazes.

They were studying with Viktor in the Hogwarts Library the day after the Yule Ball had been announced when Hermione asked their friend, “So, Viktor, who’s the lucky girl going to be?” She was teasing him as virtually every girl in the castle had been hovering around him, hoping to be the date of not only a Triwizard Champion, but an international Quidditch star.

“I don’t know,” he grumbled in frustration. “All these girls want the sport player, or the champion. But… there was one girl I met in here last week that didn’t even seem to know who I was. She was a bit odd, but I found her rather endearing. We seemed to connect, somehow.”

“Who was she?” Harry asked.

Viktor pointed across the room at a slight girl with long, straggly blonde hair dressed in Ravenclaw colours.

Harry and Hermione stared at each other in astonishment. Viktor and Luna Lovegood? Go figure.

The night of the Yule Ball, Harry and Hermione were strolling through the Rose Garden, looking for some privacy when they ran across Viktor and Luna who had, evidently, beaten them to the best spot. Who knew?

That summer, Harry, on his fifteenth birthday, formally took his place as The Head of Clan Potter in front of the Wizengamot. The same evening (after previously discussing it with both Grandpa and Ralph), he presented the Heiress of Clan Drakul with a promise ring. Their private celebration took them closer than ever to what they both really wanted.

Hermione and Harry had been surprised to find Prefects’ Badges arrive with their book lists. After much discussion, they decided to decline the appointments as they really didn’t want the additional responsibility or attention. They knew that they’d have enough of that in the future.

Grandpa Vlad, however, convinced them otherwise. He reminded them that they would need the experience before they took on the greater Wizarding World. It would also help them to judge who their friends really were. So, in spite of their misgivings, they became the new prefects for Slytherin House.

Fifth year marked the beginning of the new and improved Hogwarts. For the first time in its history, the Muggle subjects of Basic Mathematics and Science would be required, starting with that year’s incoming First Years. Also, depending on whether they were Wizard or Muggle raised, a class in either Muggle or Wizarding culture would be required.

These weren’t the only changes, however. All of the established courses were streamlined and updated to match recent developments in Magical theory, and Divination was slowly phased out as those currently enrolled in it either graduated or dropped the class. Also, the OWL and NEWT examinations would be brought up to meet the ICW standards, rather than the antiquated ones established by the British Ministry two hundred years before.

This, of course, caused a panic amongst the students, who found themselves spending long hours in the newly expanded Hogwarts Library. Harry found himself constantly trying to reassure Hermione that she’d do fine, especially since they had been studying during the summer. It was easy to see, in retrospect, that that was part of why the summer sessions existed in the first place.

In early April, after another of Hermione’s many panic attacks, it took a two hour visit to a nearby (and conveniently empty) classroom for Harry to calm her down enough to explain this to her. Once she finally accepted it, she rewarded him with another very pleasant hour.

OWLs came and went and another summer started. Harry spent even more time involved as The Potter while Hermione prepared to take her own place in Clan Drakul. As Harry’s Sixteenth birthday approached, he spent more and more time sequestered with Grandpa Vlad. Hermione took advantage of this to prepare a special birthday celebration for her love.

The day of the party finally arrived. It was held at the castle and was attended by family and the few friends they had at Hogwarts, as well as Viktor, Luna and their families. Harry was surprised and quite emotional over all the fuss being made over him, yet he countered it with a surprise of his own – he proposed to Hermione in front of the whole gathering.

That night, they finally gave in to their hormones. Sensing the magical release from their first time while sitting quietly in his study reading a book, Vlad thought with amusement, _“It’s about time. Now I can finally start planning my retirement.”_ His face blanched as another thought crossed his mind, _“I hope they remembered the charm…”_

Sixth year saw the addition of the Muggle course of Writing and Composition. Also, Harry and Hermione made it a point to initiate as many places in Hogwarts as they could; including the Prefects’ Bath – the password to which had mysteriously appeared on Harry’s bed the first night of term each year since their second year. They didn’t recognise they loopy handwriting, but they were grateful to whoever it was as the huge Roman-style bath had become one of their favourite places and they were now able to appreciate it even more.

Another summer came and went, with both Hermione and Harry taking on more responsibilities within their respective families. Also, with the support of Grandpa Vlad and Alice -- and Ralph after much coercion (from Alice) and threats (from his great-grandfather-in-law), they shared a bedroom in both Crawley and Transylvania. The young lovers took time from their duties and wedding planning to explore the various Potter properties and settled on Potter Manor in Wales to be their primary home.

Seventh year passed as quietly as the previous years. Harry and Hermione had accepted the Head Boy and Girl positions in preparation for assuming their duties in the greater Wizarding World. The fact that they would have their own suite of rooms off of the Slytherin dorms also factored heavily in their decision.

The Grey Lady and Nearly Headless Nick were floating down the corridor past the Slytherin Common Room, doing their part to prevent the students from having too much fun, when they heard a series of loud screams, moans, howls, and cries.

“I say,” commented Nick, looking around excitedly, “do we have a new ghost in the castle? It would be nice to meet someone new.”

“No,” the Grey Lady softly replied, “I don’t believe so.”

Moaning Myrtle passed through the wall in front of them, giggling madly. “You two are so silly. It’s just the Head Boy and Girl breaking in their new bed after collapsing the last one.” At their looks of mixed confusion, intrigue, and disgust, the teenaged ghost continued with a lascivious smile, “They are very energetic and imaginative. I’ve been watching couples the whole time I’ve been here and haven’t ever seen anyone like them before.” She floated off with a dreamy expression on her pale face.

The senior ghosts shared a look of horror and quickly left the area, each planning on not revisiting that particular corridor for the rest of the school year.

Hermione began to panic over the upcoming NEWTs as she had the OWLs, but this time, Harry had much, much better ways to distract her. She finally calmed and accepted the fact that panic would solve nothing, and they simply enjoyed their last year of formal schooling. After all, even though their futures were assured, it was still important to them that they be at the top of their class.

Summer once again came all too soon. In order to satisfy everyone, Hermione and Harry had finally decided to have two ceremonies. In the morning, they had a small Muggle wedding for their Muggle family and friends at the church in Oxford where Ralph and Alice were married. That afternoon they had the formal Wizarding ceremony at Castle Drakul, which was attended by the Clan and their friends, as well as a very few essential Wizarding society members. The only member of the press that was permitted to attend either event was Xenophilius Lovegood, as his daughter, Luna, was one of the couple’s few friends.

The following summer, they celebrated Viktor and Luna’s wedding, standing up for them as the newly-married couple had done for them the previous year.

NSMNSMNSM

Time passed and the British Wizarding World slowly, and with a great deal of reluctance, grew accustomed to the changes instituted originally by Count Dracula, then later by his Heiress and The Potter. Eventually, the British wizards and witches realized that entering the twenty-first century wasn’t all that bad and, as a result, all of Wizarding Europe began to prosper.

Viktor’s Quidditch career had an unexpected effect on the Wizarding world. Luna accompanied him on his travels, which gave her the opportunity to search for the strange creatures that she’d claimed for years to exist.

To the surprise of all but her husband, she found many of them.

After the first ten years of Hermione and Harry taking full responsibility as the Clan’s voice in Britannia, Vlad stepped back and gave them control of the rest of the Clan’s holdings. The old vampire smiled to himself as his retirement finally began.

NSMNSMNSM

Many more years went by as the Potters’ children passed through Hogwarts, embarked upon their own lives, started their own families and sent their offspring to what was now the premier magical school in the world, as the Founders had always planned it to be.

One day, as Hermione and Harry were relaxing in one of the smaller sitting rooms at Potter Manor, Grandpa Vlad appeared. After the usual warm and affectionate greetings, he took a seat, pleased to see that his Heiress and her husband were sitting in a position similar to the one he caught them in in the Slytherin common room so many years before.

They exchanged the usual pleasantries, until Vlad took a deep breath. “My children,” he began, “I’m very proud of how you’ve handled yourselves in our society; so much so that I’m ready to finally retire for good.”

Hermione and Harry exchanged worried glances. They’d thought that Grandpa had already retired as they’d been overseeing the combined Potter and Drakul Clans for many years.

Anticipating their reaction, the old vampire raised a hand to cut them off. “I’m not going anywhere. I just plan to remove myself from society.” He took another deep breath. “I have some research I want to continue that Albus started before he died and I really need the solitude to continue it.” Seeing their faces fall, he reassured them, “But don’t worry, I’ll still come to visit. I can’t abandon my favourite grandchildren, now, can I?

“Besides,” he went on. “I’ve been doing this for three millennia. My time is done and yours is just beginning. In light of that, I have an offer for you: one that I’ve never made before, but I think that you’re both deserving and capable of accepting.”

Hermione and Harry perked up at this.

“One thing that I feel has contributed to our success as a Clan has been continuity of leadership, however, I’ll admit to taking that to an illogical extreme. I would like to offer you a gift of extended life.”

“Y-you mean…” Hermione began, and then stopped in shock which was mirrored on her husband’s quickly whitening face.

Grandpa Vlad nodded slowly. “I’d be willing to turn you both. Now, this isn’t to say that I don’t think your sons are capable of running the Clan as they most certainly are. It’s just…” he sighed deeply, “it’s just that you two, in my eyes, have earned the right to the life that I’ve enjoyed. Most people look on this as a curse – and it can be – but it can also be a blessing if you have the proper attitude and I think that the two of you have the temperament necessary to enjoy it fully. I’ll also admit to a bit of selfishness in this, as well. The two of you have become an important part of my life and I’d hate to lose you from it.”

He slowly rose from the comfortable sofa that he was seated in. “You don’t need to answer me now. In fact, I wouldn’t accept an immediate and hasty decision, anyway. Take your time to think it over; perhaps a decade or so. We’ll talk about it more after you’ve had a chance to digest this as I can see that this is rather a shock… one that I fully expected. I’ll see you in a couple of days.” With that, he disappeared.

The couple turned to each other. “Did he really just…” they started together before falling into each others arms, laughing.

“What do you think, Harry?”

“I dunno, love. It would give you the time to actually read all the books in his libraries,” he remarked with a smirk.

A smirk of her own formed on his rather passionate wife’s face and she cuddled in closer, pressing her whole body firmly into his as she nibbled on his ear. “And think of the sex after a few millennia of practice,” she purred throatily.

He reacted by turning and pinning her down with his body on the couch they were on. “Then,” he growled while placing gentle kisses on her throat and working his way down, “we should definitely give it some serious consideration.”

Clothing vanished rapidly as they continued, comfortable in knowing that whatever they decided, they would do it as they had everything else since a young Muggleborn witch was sorted into the notoriously anti-Muggle House of Snakes: together.

 

FIN

 

 

**A/N2:** There you go, I actually finished one. I’ve been humbled by the rash (the good kind – the kind that doesn’t make you itch) of reviews that I’ve received for this story. Thanks to all of you who have read and reviewed. Remember to tip your house-elf on your way out.


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